


Stockholm Syndrome

by emmdies



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Demons, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hell, Humanity, Humor, Mystery, Romance, Shinigami, Slow Burn, Tragedy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-01-16 15:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21273512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmdies/pseuds/emmdies
Summary: Seeing the world’s greatest detective die in such an anti-climatic way could displease some of the cruelest gods and goddesses. So it should come as no surprise that Emma, a seemingly ordinary woman on the outside, decides to take matters into her own hands and save L from his cruel fate. But he wakes up in Los Angeles, after a very bumpy ride, and unable to return to the Kira investigation or life as he knew it. To top it off, Emma has a purpose of her own to fulfill, for which she needs the detective’s help... whether he wants to offer it or not.On the outside — a tale of two weird kids that seem to finally get a shot at a normal life. At its core, however — a study of what makes a human being humane, and what it takes to piece oneself together after being pulled apart by people, circumstance and a lot of bad luck.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [come & set the mood with this pinterest board](https://pinterest.com/emmizgh/stockholm-syndrome/prologue/)

_“When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it.”_  
— Caitlyn Siehl

In that place, one could lose their mind as easily as they lose their keys. Since it wasn’t exactly designed for long time stays anyway, only a select few could test the strength of their psyche within it. There wasn’t much to the place either — it only consisted of an eternal river that separated two large cliffs. Everything was always coloured in shades of red, due to an endless sunset. A sun going down at the end of the river for eternity. No matter how much you walked, swam or sailed you could never reach its end or its beginning.

Some called it the _Sanzu River_, others called it the _Vaitarna River._ Then there were those who had named it after a goddess, _Styx_.

But in that reality, it had no name. Time as we know on Earth didn’t exist there either, and one could even be in many places at once.

Overlooking the river from the edge of one particularly sharp rock sat what resembled a feminine figure — dressed in a flowery dark red kimono and black hair reaching all the way to her lower back. She gave an audible sigh at one point, her head hanging low.

“All that hair on your head’s finally starting to feel heavy, girl?” a creature standing behind her asked in a mocking voice. There was really no better fitting word to describe it — although it possessed arms and legs, its head was shaped in that of a deer’s skull, antlers and all. It slouched behind her, legs deformed as if they were imitating hooves. But the woman didn’t seem to mind her companion, or be afraid of him.

“I’m feeling quite light, actually,” she answered.

“Oh?”

“I’m afraid all this death has started to rub off on me. I might start to decompose soon enough.”

The joke made her companion snicker, for it was impossible to die in that place. The only thing reminding someone of death was the visible decay of the body. And the woman had enough signs of corruption to flaunt — what was supposed to represent skin was now a thick, scratched leather. On the parts of her body where she still had skin, that was. Most of it revealed the rotten bones that remarkably still managed to sustain her deteriorated physique.

“That’s on you, girl. It’s no one’s fault you won’t bother to fix yourself up, especially since you’re the only one who insists on keeping your human form,” the creature commented. It was true — while she was free to take any form she wanted, the woman had never gotten creative with it.

It didn’t matter in that place, however. One could exist as a severed head if they wanted to, as long as they were still able to do their job.

“Speaking of which, did you hear about Gelus?” her companion asked, changing the subject.

The black-haired woman finally looked up and stopped dangling her feet above the cliff. She repositioned herself in a way that she still had one leg hanging off the rock, but was now hugging the other. “I heard.”

“Pitiful, don’t you think? Falling in love with a human he’s never even met…”

“Oh, I would fall in love with a rock if it meant I could finally die.”

The statement was followed by a short moment of silence. The woman didn’t give it much thought, but the creature behind her became visibly uncomfortable. Long boney fingers started to fidget, and an awkward cough escaped its throat.

“I thought you gave up on that idea,” her partner muttered as if sharing a secret. “You know it doesn’t work like that for us.”

While shinigami could die by using their Death Notes to extend life, it was not so easy for those like the two of them. Shinigami could die by refusing to write names in the notebook as well, until they eventually ran out of time to live. These two — as well as a few carefully picked others — were not so lucky. For they sure did not deserve one single drop of luck, anyway.

There was, however, a popular legend that some liked to share. It was said that thousands of human years ago, one man had managed to evade his punishment by returning to Earth as a human, and living as such until everyone forgot who he really was. And when his time came to die, his soul was welcomed into Heaven, not recognised by anyone because of its purity.

It was unclear how that legend had come to exist, as well as how they had figured out he had ended up in Heaven if they had no clue who he really was.

“I know. It’s not that simple,” the woman whispered. “But what’s there to lose, really?”

Her associate gave it a bit of thought before answering, this time in a normal voice. “Well, for once, you’ll probably get a taste of life, which will make coming back here so much more depressing once you fail. There was also that guy who ended up in Hell for dying in his human form too soon…”

“There are worse things than Hell,” the black haired woman mumbled. Then, she straightened herself and finally stood up, bones cracking and small rocks breaking off the cliff as she did so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, this is totally not me rekindling an obsession... and kind of mashing up ideas from two of my all-time favorite animes. I even made pinterest boards for this. what is life


	2. City of Angels

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is! the first chapter! I'm so excited! feedback, as always, is greatly appreciated. tell me what you like and tell me what you don't like. I know it may be a little confusing now at the beginning (as in what the real deal with this chick is lol), but we're gonna get there. It's part of the mystery. :) have fun reading and thanks for checking it out either way!
> 
> I also want to mention that this story would probably not have existed if I had never stumbled across Penguiduck's story, [A Crooked Moon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19762339/chapters/46780285). it's an adorable reader-insert, happening after L's death and with the reader learning how to cope with it and L's nightly visits. check it out if you want, I definitely recommend it.
> 
> [come & set the mood](https://pinterest.com/emmizgh/stockholm-syndrome/chapter-one/)

Darkness.

There was nothing around him but darkness. Every now and then, he was able to hear the sound of bells ringing in the distance… similar to those he had heard on the roof. But there was something different about them — these ones didn’t seem to sound as vivacious. They sounded almost distorted, sad, as if the sound was being forced out of them.

As if they didn’t exactly want to ring.

~*~

** _November 5th, two minutes to L’s final breath_ **

“Ryuzaki! What’s wrong?!”

The scenery had unfolded in less than a few seconds, barely enough time for the woman who sat reading in the back of the room to figure out what was happening. She noted the notification plastered on each one of the screens, and lazily got up from the sofa to step towards the commotion. No one seemed to notice her unusual calmness. Most of them were freaking out about the dark-haired detective, while the others had gone searching for the shinigami.

Light was towering over the man whose eyes were now slowly closing. Before she knew it, the real panic ensued. Everyone suddenly assumed they were going to be next. The tension within the task force headquarters was almost incredible, as everyone’s fight or flight response had been triggered all at once. The only two people who seemed unaffected (besides the dying detective) were Light and this strange woman.

She walked up to Light and placed a hand on his shoulder. He solemnly nodded at her, but then went on to brush her hand off him and walked past her. As everyone was busy worrying about themselves, the dark-haired woman kneeled besides L, now left alone on his back, his last breath long gone. Then, just as gently as she had handled herself before, she brushed a strand of hair off his forehead. Her hand slid down his face, and stopped right above his heart.

_They really did you dirty, didn’t they?_

With a swift motion, she pulled out her cellphone and sent out a text message.

~*~

It would have been enough for anyone to go crazy. Was this really what the afterlife felt like? It wouldn’t have come as such a surprise to him, hadn’t he found out about the existence of shinigami and actually having seen one in person. He had assumed there was more to it than just shinigami. There had to be.

But what else could someone in that position do? Time seemed to be non-existent, the bells rang at inconsistent intervals, and he could not bring himself to even count the seconds. Each time he reached four, something made him lose count. Imagine the frustration of not being able to keep track of your own mind, coming from the same place as L was.

It seemed improbable that this was all there was to it. Eternal darkness, occasional auditory hallucinations and just generally going insane. Maybe it was actually some kind of preparation for Hell, engulfing every last bit of sanity left until all he could feel was suffering. Eternal suffering.

At one point, however, he began to experience a new kind of auditory hallucination. Accompanying the bells now were loud thuds, as if somebody was shaking a large wooden box with all its massive contents still in it. Then, it was joined by what seemed to be a loud whistle, and strange shivers ran down his body. Except he had no body.

The darkness eventually began to catch a shade of dark red, until it became brighter and brighter. This had to be Hell. Any minute now, flames would form around him, and he would start burning for all eternity. Or whatever was supposed to happen in there.

But the warmth never came. Instead, he felt some sort of softness. As if he was sinking into something. Something surprisingly familiar.

Then, he started to regain feeling in his hands. Hands that he could not see, but felt were there. He felt himself grip at some kind of fabric, satin-like. His head was slightly higher than the rest of his body. He was laying on his back.

There was a sudden burst of light, and L realised he had opened his eyes.

And right in his face was another face, staring down at him. A pale, dark-haired woman with dark eyes and a concerned look on her face. She eventually disappeared from his line of sight and the ceiling lamp was left to blind him instead.

“Looks like you had a lot of sleep to catch up with.”

He gripped the edges of the bedsheets as he tried to sit up. But his body felt too heavy to move, almost as if he was paralysed. Thoughts ran through his head a million a second, and it seemed to take him forever to recognise the woman that was now sitting on the floor next to him.

~*~

** _October 4th_ **

“This is Emma Sinclair,” L spoke, in his usual monotone voice – even though he was introducing someone new. It had been only two days since Soichiro, Mastuda and Mogi had quit the NPA, and he had already contacted Aiber and Wedy as well, but they had yet to arrive.

The people of the task force turned their heads towards the woman that was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, right next to the staircase. She was dressed simply — a pair of jeans and a buttoned white shirt. Black hair up in a messy ponytail, she looked like she was out grocery shopping. She gave them a quick wave, which only some of them returned.

“She is here to observe, as an LAPD consultant on paranormal matters. This is the only person I would trust to give an opinion on matters such as death gods, since the LAPD seems to have great confidence in her. The likelihood of shinigami existing is still low, but we must make sure we consider every possibility.”

~*~

** _December 6th_ **

L barely managed to utter her name, “Emma…?”

His voice had come out hoarse and low, and he instantly started coughing even after that little bit of effort. He felt a hand being placed at the back of his head, trying to sustain him so he wouldn’t choke on his own spit.

The woman sighed loudly. “Yeah… about that name…”

As L’s coughing finally calmed down, she placed his head back on the pillow and scooted a little closer to the mattress he was laying on. He turned his head to see her better, even though his eyes were still squinted.

“You might want to stay like that for what’s going to follow,” she said, seeing him struggle to sit up again.

He gave up and instead looked at her with a confused expression. It was the first time she had seen him like that. But it was to be expected.

The unease on her face was more than obvious. She almost looked ashamed. After tightening her lips into a thin line, she released them, causing a loud smack. “First of all, welcome to the City of Angels.”

“Heaven,” he concluded. His eyes had now adjusted to the brightness, and he allowed them to grow wide. She could see the shock spreading on his features like a plague.

She let out the breath she had apparently been holding for a while. “No. You’re in Los Angeles.” The detective relaxed his shoulders for a few seconds, while his mind raced to make sense of reality. “As for what happened… well, I’m sure you remember most of it,” she said, trying to avoid saying it directly. She could tell he was still confused, and unsure if he was really alive. “Kira got to you.”

At the mention of that name, L’s body tensed back again. He hadn’t even noticed it beginning to relax, but it was more than clear he was now back at square one. Emma noticed it, but stopped talking, deciding instead to let him move at his own comfortable pace. It was hard to deliver all that mountain of information on a man who had just returned from the dead, but it was something she had to do.

L remembered it all. He remembered those cursed screens, signalling to him that Watari was gone – along with the panic that had immediately crept up. He remembered himself trying to keep his cool, ordering everyone to find the shinigami.

_Shinigami._

It had been the last word he had managed to speak.

“Well, technically… it wasn’t Kira who got you,” she continued, as if reading his mind. “It was the shinigami, Rem.”

They exchanged a glance that no one could really decipher. “Yet I am still alive. Why is that?” he asked, after the short moment of silence. His voice came out as a whisper this time, still recovering from the shock of having all memories come back to him.

Her expression, however, immediately lightened up. “It wasn’t fair.” Instead of asking her to elaborate, he just stared at her. “Rem died as a result of trying to save Misa Amane. But she went for both you and Watari, because you both posed a threat. Two lives were traded for one.” She held up her index and middle finger, and the confused detective found himself staring at them now. “…and that’s not fair.”

When L finally frowned, she wasn’t sure whether it was because of her judgment, or because of the headache he must have been experiencing. “Then… how am I still alive?”

Emma cleared her throat. “Here,” she said, while turning around to grab something from a plate behind her – a strawberry, which she carefully brought to his mouth. He looked at it for a few seconds before taking a bite. The whole scene was already surreal enough, a little remembrance of the real world could only help. When the taste of the strawberry hit him, he let out a deep sigh. Whatever the woman was going to tell him, it was probably going to only get worse from thereon. He could tell by how carefully she was trying to handle him.

“Let’s start with what I said earlier, about my name…,” she started to explain once he finished the strawberry. “That’s not really my name. My name is Enma.”

It took him a few seconds to make the connection, but he could almost feel the strawberry travel back to his mouth once he did. Laying on his back didn’t exactly help keeping the food down either. She quickly figured it out and raised his head again, tucking a pillow underneath his neck. L just looked in the distance, avoiding her face. “Enma… as in…”

The silence that followed made it clear he was not going to continue his sentence. “Yeah,” she simply stated, nearly embarrassed. He looked at her, dumbfounded by her nonchalant manner of speaking. Then, he inwardly cursed himself – of course there had to be worse things than shinigami and death notes.

“But you can still call me Emma. I’m alright with that,” she quickly added. He didn’t react, or didn’t register it – she couldn’t tell. He had gone back to staring holes into the wall that stood in front of him. “I doubt you want to get into the details of how I got your heart to start again. I’m just going to apologise for the scar – I’m not that good with stitches.”

Another round of silence. Then, using his elbows to support his upper body, L slowly lifted himself a little more. Enough to be able to tug his white shirt to the side and look at his chest. Emma watched him while chewing on a small layer of skin that she had just ripped off her bottom lip. His eyes widened. Again.

_What a rollercoaster_, she thought.

As suspected, right above his heart rested a scar, about two or three inches long. The stitching was indeed bad, but that was the least of his problems. Somehow, this woman had managed to restart his heart after his name had been written in the death note. This woman had performed some kind of open heart surgery. This woman had literally brought him back to life.

This woman was also the devil.

It dawned on him. Little by little, the pieces of the puzzle were starting hint at an actual picture. If he had managed to knock himself off his chair at the mere idea of considering death gods a real thing, what was he supposed to do now?

He felt as if no matter how much air he was breathing in, there was never enough. The detective’s breathing had grown faster as a result of that, and before he knew it, both his legs and arms that he could barely move were now shaking uncontrollably. Not enough to be obvious, but the way he glanced over at his hand made Emma notice it as well.

This couldn’t be real. He was probably dreaming. Maybe he’d wake up handcuffed to Light any minute now.

“Law–”

“No!” he shouted, interrupting her from saying his full name. She shut up, but he murmured to himself, probably as an attempt to make sense of everything by himself, “There is a high chance this is just another hallucination. First the auditory ones, and now visual…” He kept on debating by himself, his words becoming more and more hard to understand for the woman.

With a saddened expression, Emma reached into the pocket of her cardigan and wrapped her fingers tightly around the syringe she had prepared. Hopefully, it would remain unused, but his body language suggested the opposite. L was clearly in shock – something she doubted he had experienced a lot of times. It was unclear how he would react to such information.

“Calm down, I know it’s a lot to handle right now. We can come back to it later if yo–”

“No,” he interrupted her again, right in the middle of his nonsensical rant. L lowered his head, trying to steady his breathing and probably his mind at the same time. His hair hid his features, but Emma’s grip around the syringe loosened. “I want to know it all. Now,” he added.

It surprised her, his sudden change of tone. In just a matter of seconds, he had switched to his old demanding nature, yet still a little stoic. His voice wasn’t a shy whisper anymore, but a grave one. It could only mean he was coming back to his senses.

Impressive, she thought. It had taken her a lot more time to feel like herself again after her first experience of the sort. But this was L, after all. Even the ten second display of shock had been a surprise.

“Your associates were all targeted after you died,” she explained. “Even me. I almost missed our flight because I was stuck in the airport bathroom regenerating my heart.”

He completely ignored the supernatural part of the explanation. “Our flight, you say?”

“Well, we got here by plane. But I had to pass you for a corpse and transport you in a casket. Hence the bruising,” she quickly explained, a little nervous about his reaction again. She motioned towards the general area of his body. “Sorry about that, too.”

That strawberry was threatening to come back up again. He wasn’t going to look back at his body too soon.

“It’s been about a month since your death. During this time, you’ve been in what you humans probably would call some sort of coma,” she continued, sensing his next question. “They even held a funeral for you. Sorry I couldn’t attend.”

Her attempt at a joke had flown right over his head. Maybe it was the fact that he couldn’t switch to his usual thinking position, but L felt like he could barely put together a single coherent thought anymore.

“You apologise a lot for who you claim to be.”

Emma had reached over to bring him another strawberry, but she stopped dead in her tracks when his words finally hit her. “Excuse me?” she asked, arm still extended, hovering over the little plate that held different assortments of fruit.

“I have to go back.”

L straightened his posture, slowly, now using his palms. With all the strength left in his body, he pushed hard enough to regain his full height. The fact that he was standing on a mattress on the floor made him slightly unbalanced, but he managed to stand still after a few seconds of adjusting. Emma merely stared at him as he struggled to hop off the mattress.

“Find and book me a flight back to Japan,” he demanded.

When she realised he was being serious, the woman stood up as well, and walked right in front of him.

“Sit back down.” She placed both hands on his shoulders, trying to push him back down onto the mattress, but he kept trying to walk past her.

“Please, do not stand in my way.”

“Please, sit back down,” she insisted. “You’re not even going to make it to the door. This is just the adrenaline talking.”

Seeing she wasn’t going to move by herself, he stepped over the mattress in order to walk around her. Emma let go of him, scared of making him fall, and then watched him make his way towards the front door. Her shoulders lowered in defeat, as she waited for her prediction to come true.

And it didn’t come late. L stopped when there were only two steps left until he could reach the door. Then, with a timid grunt, he fell to his knees, and eventually to his side.

~*~

When he woke up, L was back on the mattress. However, as he laid on his side, he felt something warm up the back of his knees. He slowly lifted his upper body, and noticed that a dog was curled up in a ball right behind his legs.

“That’s Fen,” he heard Emma mutter from the doorway. She was leaning against it and munching on a piece of toast. She spoke with her mouth full. “I passed by a shelter when I went out for food a few hours ago. His previous owners gave him up because he was too big. That never scared _me_, though.”

L wasn’t particularly interested in the dog (a German Shepherd by its looks), its history or the strange woman’s dirty joke. He just wanted to get back to his investigation. Actually, he was more than ready to put the handcuffs around Light Yagami’s wrists permanently this time.

But as he rose to his feet and made his way towards the door for the second time now, he found the woman wouldn’t move.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she eventually said, after a few second of deathly glares being exchanged. “You’re just going to die again. And I won’t be there to fix you up a second time.”

“I have to arrest Kira,” L muttered.

“He’ll kill you before you set foot in Japan. Remember, that shinigami wrote your name in the notebook. Kira has that notebook now. He knows your name.” L frowned. “Besides, you have no ID or passport.”

“I have worked with the LAPD before. I am certain they will help me.”

“Maybe. Or maybe they will want to ask the real L who is still in Japan why there’s a guy claiming to be L in their office.” Emma rose both her hands in the air, now empty of the toast she had finished eating. “Besides, what’s the rush? You won. You know who Kira is.”

“So Light has taken on my name…” L muttered once again, almost to himself, bringing his thumb up to his mouth so he could lightly chew on it. He seemed lost in thought for a few moments before he returned his attention to the woman blocking his way. “It has been a month, you said. My successors must know by now that the L in Japan is not the real L. I shall contact them instead.”

She sighed loudly, still not moving. “Why don’t you let them have the pleasure of figuring this out themselves, then? It should be a nice first task for them as your successors. It also keeps you safe.”

Tired of a conversation that obviously would get them nowhere, L attempted to shove the woman to the side. She only took a short step to the side to keep her balance, but it was enough for L to be able to reach the doorknob. She quickly grabbed his wrist to keep him from turning it. “I can’t let people know you are still alive. I’m not going to risk having you die again.”

He looked up at her, and her face was awkwardly close to his. Her tone had switched to a more serious one, but what really took him by surprise was the sudden confession. “Why am I so important to you?”

Emma didn’t respond immediately. He saw how she struggled to keep a calm demeanour, but the light twitching of her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth gave her away. Taking advantage of her distraction, he moved his captured hand to the side and turned the knob with his free one, kicking the door open.

Instead of being outside, or at least in a hallway, L found himself bursting into what appeared to be the living room.

“You didn’t think I was so stupid as to leave you in an unlocked room like that,” Emma mumbled from behind him. The real front door was heavy and made of metal, and had several locks, easily distinguishable. He knew he was too weak to fight a police officer — or whatever she really was — for the keys, so he turned around, deciding to humour her.

“What do you want?”

“Now we’re talking,” she joyfully stated, walking past him. He watched her as she made her way to the bar that separated the open kitchen from the rest of the living room. As she poured herself a glass of what looked like whiskey, L took the time to study his surroundings. The windows were armed as well, letting no light pass through the heavy metal. It made him wonder what time of day it was.

Emma took her glass and threw herself on the sofa. “I want you to help me. There are a few cases the LAPD cannot figure out. I believe you can.”

L hadn’t moved from the spot next to the door that led to the bedroom. He just stood there, slouching. “I can help you once I am done with the Kira case.”

She shook her head vehemently and downed her glass. Once done, she placed it on the coffee table. “No. I was originally going to ask for your help once the Kira case was over, but you went off to die instead. So, no more Kira case for you. Let others handle that mess. That ship has sailed.”

At first, his original thought was who does she think she is? But he changed the subject once he remembered who she had told him she was. “How is that of any benefit to the ruler of Hell?”

Just as he stated what he assumed to be her real identity, the woman seemed to stiffen. “Don’t call me that,” she protested before suddenly switching back to a more relaxed demeanour. Then, as the answer to his question finally came to her, she placed her palms behind her head and slid a little lower on the sofa. “I’m bored. I came here to decipher you humans. And what better way of studying humans if not becoming one myself? You can take a seat, by the way.”

L hesitated a little before walking towards the loveseat in font of her. “Then your goal is complete. There is nothing I can do for you,” he said.

“It’s not just about the body. It’s about humanity. I want to know what makes you people do things the way you do,” she said, flailing her hands as she spoke the last couple of words, but then placed them back behind her head.

“So you join the LAPD to cleanse the world of crime, because that’s what you believe to be the most noble thing a human can do. You think you can discover humanity through noble acts,” L affirmed, after taking his usual crouching position on the seat.

She chuckled darkly. “There you go.”

“Following that reasoning, I believe the most noble thing you can do right now is to let me go catch Kira.”

Emma’s snicker stopped abruptly as her expression darkened. “You just don’t get it, do you? You’re dead. I’ve already disrupted the human world enough by bringing you back to life and replacing your corpse with some other guy’s. You cannot be in contact with any of your past acquaintances. If they don’t kill you, I’ll have to do so myself.”

“Letting people die at the hand of a psychopath is not very noble of you,” he insisted, looking her right in the eyes. There it was again, that subtle twitching of her face.

It remained even as she spoke, ever so calmly. “You have lost your trump card, L. Let people that still have their anonymity take Kira down. There is nothing you can do. You still have no physical proof. And if anything, you’re going to look like the suspicious one for faking your death. Or evading it, for that matter.”

She was right, in a way. Even if he somehow managed to contact the task force, they would still need convincing that Light was Kira. Especially since they let Light act as the new L — they must have been certain Light was innocent. It would take more than telling them Light grinned at him before he died.

As he sat there, thumb in his mouth, trying to figure out a way out of this, Emma got up and grabbed something from a bag that was hanging by the door. She threw it on the coffee table in front of him — a file. A few photographs and notes fell out of it as she might have thrown it a little too violently.

“Since you’re feeling so energetic, you might as well solve your first case for me,” she said while making her way back into the bedroom. L didn’t say anything, and the only sound that followed was the slam of the bedroom door.

~*~

“He’s not going to do anything, you know,” a deep voice behind her said, as Emma pressed her finger against a button next to the window. The metallic blinds of the bedroom moved to the side, revealing a city covered in the warm colours of the sunset. The one-bedroom apartment was situated at the eleventh and top floor — enough to give a nice panorama over Los Angeles.

“I know.”

“Are you sure this is the right way to approach it?”

“It has to be,” she whispered, her finger trailing down the glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Enma**  
— god of hell in the Buddhist religion.


	3. Watari

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [tiny moodboard](https://pinterest.com/emmizgh/stockholm-syndrome/chapter-two-watari/)
> 
> thank you for the kudos and for reading this! I know I take a lot of liberties with it. hopefully you're having as much fun reading it as I do writing it!

Emma came out of the bedroom a few hours later, and found L fidgeting with the panel that controlled the security system of the apartment. He didn’t mind her, and continued analysing it as she walked past him towards the fridge.

“You can look at it all you want, it’s not going to move without my fingerprint,” she stated with confidence, but the detective ignored her. When she looked over at the coffee table, she noticed that the file had not moved. Even the pieces that had fallen out of it were still at the same place she had left them.

When she opened the fridge, however, her brows furrowed — it was empty. “Where’s all the food?”

“I ate it,” L absent-mindedly responded.

She shut the door with a little more force than expected and turned to glare at him, even though he had his back turned. “What? Now I have to—”

They both stopped dead in their tracks.

“You did it so I would have to go out to get more food, and unlock the door so you could see how the security system works.”

L went back to studying the control panel. “I was hungry. As you may recall, I haven’t eaten in almost one month.” He paused, but shortly after added, “Besides, I already know how the system works.”

She was prepared to contradict him and confess that she had made sure he got enough nutrients while he was knocked out cold. But his following statement caught her off guard. “What?”

“It uses a three-factor authentication method. To arm or disarm it, it needs a physical key, a fingerprint, and a passcode. I assume the passcode is only needed after a certain amount of time, since I heard you open the blinds a few hours ago. The only input is located right next to the front door,” he explained. “You must have set it that way so you don’t have to input a six-digit passcode each time you want to open or close a window. Quite rudimental, if you ask me.”

Emma grunted. “I can regenerate my fingerprint.”

At that, he turned around to finally face her. “I take back that last comment, then.”

“How did you know it was a six-digit passcode, though?” she asked, trying to look over his shoulder at the control panel.

“There are exactly five keys that seem to be more worn out than the others. Of them, one is more worn out than the rest — which means you have a double-digit in it, somewhere. You should really consider a different type of keypad. Perhaps one that does not have the numbers painted on.”

He was right — there were certain keys that looked a little more worn out, but she couldn’t count more than three. Also, she couldn’t have figured out which one was the double-digit if she hadn’t already known it. They all looked the same to her. With the intention of changing the code as soon as possible in mind, she dismissed the matter and went back to searching the cupboards for something to eat.

“You should have focused those deductive skills on the case,” she said as she grabbed a bag of salted chips.

“I have no interest in your case.”

Emma opened the bag and sat down at the bar. “You should, since it’s your only way of getting out of here. I’m supposed to be at work in three hours. I want it solved by then.”

At last, L was able to tell the time.

“Holding me hostage and making me solve cases in your name has nothing to do with humanity. People are dying because of Kira. If you want to act noble and understand humanity, I suggest you start there,” he spoke again, taking a seat on the sofa in his usual crouched manner.

She kept on eating the chips, speaking with her mouth full again. “I cannot get involved in the Kira case. People die regardless of Kira. Some people die because you refused to take on certain cases. Just because they weren’t interesting enough.”

“So, this is a case I have refused,” he muttered.

Small crumbles of chips kept falling on the floor, but Emma paid them no mind. “I originally chose you because I saw you as an agent of justice, y’know. But when I asked around the higher-ups of the LAPD, it turned out you have refused several cases that still rest unsolved to this day. I gave up on you and tried to solve them myself, but to no end — using limited human resources, that is. Then, you contacted me to assist you in the Kira case. Ironic, isn’t it?”

Finally, he opened the file and went through it, sometimes holding pages up for closer inspection with his thumbs and index fingers. “I am not an agent of justice. I solve cases to pass the time and keep my mind busy. I am afraid I know too little about what it means to be human to be of any assistance to you.”

She watched him carefully. “You’d rather die than do a good deed that you find boring?”

L looked up at her, his expression as blank as the back of the piece of paper he was holding. “I did not say that,” he said and went back to the file.

“Look, I can sit here until you develop Stockholm syndrome. I don’t think I am asking for much — after all, I’ll provide you with everything you need. All you have to do is sit here and solve cases until…”

He looked up at her again, waiting for her to continue. It took a while for the wheels in her head to start turning again.

“…until I can do so on my own and help people.”

“So, I have to sit here forever.”

The potato chip she was about to eat cracked before reaching her mouth. L didn’t seem to mind her display of annoyance; he went on studying the file, but never showed any sign of something catching his interest. He looked as if he was browsing some unwanted catalogue he had just gotten in the mail.

“Why are you so adamant about arresting Kira, if you only solve cases for your personal pleasure?” He ignored her again, and kept on browsing the file. This time, however, he placed a certain document to the side.

But Emma saw his lack of response as a win for her. “Liar,” she mumbled, staring at a potato chip that she had just drawn out. She held it between her middle and index finger, and absently stared at it. It went up in a small flame. “Liars go to Hell.”

As soon as she said it, she threw it on the glass table, right next to the case file. L looked at the flaming potato chip until it extinguished itself, and then up at her. “Arresting Kira has become more of a personal vendetta now, if you insist to know.”

She came to the conclusion that there was no point in trying to talk him out of it. Of course, a tiny part of her had hoped he would wilfully assist her, so she wouldn’t have to take all the precautions of keeping him in the apartment. But the rational part of her knew L wasn’t going to do that. Even after telling him who she was and giving him a glimpse of her power — it seemed he almost had some kind of death wish. But after giving it more thought, she realised he knew she wasn’t going to hurt him.

Why wasn’t she going to hurt him? Well, obviously, it went against her plan. Virtuous humans don’t set other humans on fire just because they didn’t want to do what was asked of them. Emma failed to see the flaw in her logic, however. Virtuous humans don’t take other humans hostage, either. But she had seen L do it, so she assumed it was excusable if it was for a good cause. The end justifies the means, doesn’t it?

“Right,” she said, ending the subject. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

She did look back at the crumbles that she had left behind for a few seconds, but decided they would be a problem for another time. L was still going through the file, which made her hopes go up a little.

Unbeknownst to her, as soon as she disappeared into the bathroom L tossed the file to the side and got up. He went back to the only investigation he currently cared about — how to get out of there. Sure, he had discovered how the locks worked, but he had to find another way to bypass them. For that was the plan, after all: to make the woman think he was going to cooperate, and then just hit the road as soon as possible. Preferably while she was away.

Twenty minutes later, Emma got out of the shower. As soon as he heard the water stop, L went back his place in front of the file. It took her a few more minutes to come out of the bathroom, but she came out fully dressed and with a towel wrapped around her head.

She threw it on the sofa next to L, revealing her damp black hair, and made her way towards the bar. She turned around in the middle of preparing the coffee machine and asked him, “Coffee?”

He looked up and nodded at her. “If you would be so kind.”

There was a dullness in his tone that made her not really want to serve him coffee anymore. But she brushed the feeling away and turned back to the coffee machine. “How many sugars do you take again? Twenty?”

L was, however, still completely indifferent to the whole situation. “Please leave the pack on the table,” he answered.

They spent a few more minutes in complete silence, while the only sound that echoed through the room was the coffee brewing or the pages of the file rustling. Fen, the German Shepherd, eventually came out of the bedroom and joined them as well. He walked right up to the leftover chips Emma had let fall between the barstools.

“Good boy,” she whispered as he licked the last bit off the floor.

She gave L his cup of coffee, as well as the promised bag of sugar. Then, she kneeled down next to the dog and started stroking its head as she sipped on her own cup, void of sugar or milk. L was still pouring sugar into his cup when she looked up at him, a few moments later.

Fen had already gotten tired of the attention and had curled up into a ball when the detective was finally done with his sugar. After taking a rather large gulp, he shut the file and placed the document he had previously put aside on top of it.

“Look into this man’s alibi. There is a high chance it has been fabricated,” he said.

The case she had presented him looked simple, but it was the lack of evidence and the well-backed alibis that made it unsolvable. A young woman had been found murdered in her own apartment, stabbed with one of her own kitchen knives. The last person that had seen the victim that night— a work colleague that had brought her the sunglasses she had left in the office — recalled her locking the front door after seeing him out. There was no sign of forced entry, however. Whoever had murdered her had made sure to take a few of her possessions, in an attempt to make it look like a burglary gone wrong.

The man L suggested was worth investigating was the woman’s boyfriend. Some of her friends had suggested she had been cheating on him. He had admitted he never suspected her of such a thing, though.

Emma instantly perked up and grabbed the document. “I have, it was the first thing I did. He had everything from motive to opportunity. But it all checks out — he spent the night where he said he did. There was even security footage of him entering and leaving his brother’s apartment building at 9 p.m. and 7 a.m. respectively. Even his brother confirmed it.”

L looked up at her. “His brother could well be lying. Did you check the other exits as well?”

“There are no back doors. The apartment he spent the night at is at the fifth floor. There is no other exit,” she answered, frowning slightly.

“These types of buildings usually share a common basement. Go back and check the footage of the buildings next to it and their entrances. Have someone check the basement as well.”

She nodded slowly. “Will do. Uh…”

It was there, right at the tip of her tongue. But L had gone back to sipping on his coffee, and she convinced herself that thanking him wouldn’t make any difference. It was obvious he still didn’t want to be there. Besides, this was not the time to get soft. So she decided to show her gratitude in a slightly more concealed manner.

“I’ll get more food on my way home,” she said. That was it — he would eventually associate her with receiving treats, right? Pavlov had managed it, why couldn’t she?

“Please do,” came his absent answer.

Emma left together with Fen shortly after. But hours later, L was still sitting in the same spot. One could assume he was asleep, but the detective was making sure he got the timing right.

It was improbable that the woman had installed the security system by herself. Besides, it was clearly human-made and sold, so it had to respect human marketing standards. And by those standards, it needed to have some sort of override function. The company that marketed the system would certainly take a hit in case anyone got stuck in a fire because of their locks.

So when enough time had passed — enough for Emma to reach her office within the LAPD, or wherever she was going — L began rummaging through the drawers of the kitchen, until he found exactly what he was looking for. A lighter.

~*~

“Quite a party you’re throwing, huh. Cash or credit?”

Emma handed over a few dollar bills without answering the cashier’s question. She grabbed the grocery bags, rushing out of the supermarket. The last thing she needed was the cashier to further comment on the insane amount of candy, sweets and boxes of sugar she had bought. Fen was waiting for her next to the entrance, tied to the bicycle rack, but she passed by him to put the bags in the car first.

The door to the trunk of her ’67 black Mustang creaked loudly as she opened it to throw the ‘groceries’ inside. She cursed once she realised she had thrown them over the box of cake she had bought earlier, and quickly rearranged them so that there was nothing deforming the box anymore. When she was done, she shut the trunk and went back to get the dog.

“Don’t worry. I got you some treats, too,” she whispered to him while untying the leash.

She had passed by the LAPD earlier to drop off the hint about the suspect. She was, after all, a mere consultant. When it came to cases like these, all she could do was give an opinion or a fresh point of view for the real investigators to look into it. Most of the time it took a while to convince them, but with L’s arguments backing her up, Emma had managed to get them to work rather fast. So until further information came up, she had the day free to roam around and take care of matters such as satisfying L’s absurd glucose needs.

But as she waited for the roof of her convertible to descend, she received a text that would drain her of every last drop of optimism.

'Fire alarm activated. This is an automated message.'

~*~

The horrendous ringing of the alarm was still fresh in his ears as L stumbled across the streets of Los Angeles. A wet, barefoot, but focused as always L was making his way as quickly as possible away from the apartment building he had just managed to break out of. As expected, the doors and windows had automatically unlocked as soon as the sprinklers had activated.

Now he knew the first thing to do was to reach a payphone and call Wammy’s House so they could come and get him. He had snatched a few pennies before fleeing, but in case the woman found out about the fire alarm, he needed to be at least a few blocks away from the building to make his phone call. People were looking at him strangely, and it was clear that tracking him down wouldn’t be hard for the woman. All she needed to do was ask around.

When he finally decided he was far enough, L stepped into a public phone booth and inserted the coins, dialling the number from his memory. He held the phone close to his face with two fingers, breathing heavily as water kept dripping from his hair and clothes.

“Hello?” a feminine voice at the other end eventually answered.

“This is L. I need assistance. I am currently located in Los Angeles, and have been held in an apartment against my will. I need you to—”

“Hello?” the voice interrupted him, audibly confused. He then realised it was an old lady’s voice.

“Yes. Please put Roger Ruvie on the phone,” he requested instead. He figured the woman was probably the cleaning lady, or someone unfamiliar with the inner workings of the orphanage.

“Roger who? I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong number,” the old lady responded. He was sure he had dialled the right number. There was no way this was a mistake.

“That is impossible. Is this not Wammy’s House, the orphanage?” L switched to hold the phone normally, his grip on it growing stronger as he heard a car engine approach and stop next to the booth. He looked over and saw Emma rush out of an old black convertible. A few other cars had already formed a queue behind her by the time she had reached the booth, honking their horns and yelling at her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I got my phone installed a few days ago,” the voice at the other side of the line answered, while L watched the angry woman’s figure approach from the corner of his eye.

L didn’t respond. Instead, he turned around and watched as Emma violently opened the door to the booth. But instead of grabbing him or pulling him away from the phone, she just stood there and frowned at him.

“Hello?” the voice on the other end continued.

Still staring at the black-haired woman, L muttered into the phone, “I am sorry for disturbing you.” He slowly hung up, not taking his eyes off her as he did. Emma tilted her head slightly to the side, waiting for his next move. Would he try to sprint outside? He didn’t seem too concerned about her being there. They stared at each other for several seconds, before she arched one eyebrow, prompting him to explain what had happened.

“Wrong number,” he simply stated.

Emma swallowed. She had noticed his confused expression from outside, and figured something was probably wrong. But after hanging up the phone, his puzzled expression was gone, replaced by his usual neutral one. It had taken her an insane amount of self control not to storm into the booth and drag him out like a pissed off mother would do to her child. But now, as she stood there, she almost felt bad. Maybe seeing him like that — desperate, wet and barefoot managed to tug at her heartstrings a little.

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said, as calmly as she could. “Let’s go home.”

There was still no reaction from L. To top it off, the people she had blocked on the road were getting more and more impatient. It didn’t help that it was a one-way road and they could not really drive past her parked car. Emma could almost feel her ears burning. But one wrong word and even that slim chance she had to get him back would be gone.

“Look… I went shopping earlier. I got this cake, strawberry and… chocolate, I think? You like chocolate, right? There’s also a lot of whipped cream on it—”

“Hey lady!” a man interrupted her plea from behind. She turned around to see he had exited his car and was now quickly approaching her. “The road is not your fucking parking—”

“Get back in your car before I punch you back into it, you stupid fuck!” she yelled back at him, calm tone instantly gone. The man stopped, but didn’t exactly do as told.

“That’s it, I’m calling the police!”

Emma ignored him and went back to L who was completely unfazed by the interaction. She struggled to regain her calm voice again. “Come on. Let’s get you clean and dry. You’ll really like the stuff I bought.”

The detective ignored her pleas. Instead, he had other curiosities. “How did you find me?”

“I’ll tell you once we get home. I promise. Come on, let’s get out of here.” At that point, she extended her hand towards him. L looked down at it, but walked past her, towards the illegally parked car, hands in his pockets. Fen was cheerfully wagging his tail from inside the car, waiting for the both of them. Emma sighed and ran towards the car, waving as excuse to the people who had been waiting for her.

It was to be expected — the orphanage had taken all possible precautionary measures once they had learned about his death. His special emergency line had been cut. Unless he was physically there, there was no way they could believe he was still alive. It was just how the system worked. No one had taken into account occult resurrections when these measures had been designed.

They spent the short drive back to the apartment in complete silence. Emma had folded the roof back on top of the car, to keep the detective from catching a cold. She hadn’t exactly expected him to be too talkative following this experience, either.

When they reached the apartment, he had to stay behind in the car with the dog. There was a firetruck stationed in front of the building, as well as a few firemen probably waiting for her to get back home leaning against it. Emma apologised for the system malfunction, claiming she was not home when it happened, and that she would have to contact the manufacturer to figure out what had gone wrong. It was a surprise she even managed to avoid being fined for wasting their time.

After they left, she went back to the car to let her two companions out.

The apartment was just as much of a wet mess as L was. Emma had to stop and compose herself for a few seconds before stepping into the living room, but when she eventually did, she let out a deep sigh. She had to remove her boots in order to not spread mud across the wet floor. “Fucking Hell.”

“Please refrain from using such language,” L said while walking past her, carrying the box that held the cake Emma had promised him. She watched him in complete and utter shock. _The audacity._

“I am one wet sock away from strangling you,” she muttered, dropping the two grocery bags to the floor and slamming the door behind her. Fen was gleefully jumping around, enjoying the soaked floor.

Emma struggled to reach one of the barstools to sit down and pour herself a much needed drink without stepping into any puddles. L just grabbed a pillow from the sofa and turned it around so the wet side was facing down. He threw it on the floor, wiped some water off with it and then placed the box on top of it. Crouching next to it, he carefully undid the wrapping of the cake. Emma watched him, conflicting thoughts battling inside her mind.

“So what now? You got any spare change left to buy a plane ticket?” she eventually asked him after taking a sip of whiskey.

L glanced over at her, mouth full of cake. “I suppose I will have to find your hidden stash. Before I remove whatever tracking device you have installed on me, that is.”

Emma snickered darkly. “Oh, yeah, about that. A promise is a promise.”

She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. L turned his attention back to his cake, eating it with his bare hands. She crumbled the paper into a ball and closed one eye as she prepared to aim it at his head.

When she finally threw it, the ball hit him right in the cheek. It fell into a puddle next to him. He looked at it, and then back up at her, as if asking _what was that for?_ but Emma was staring at Fen, who was now asleep on his side next to the bathroom door.

“Come out,” she ordered. L looked over at the dog as a black cloud seemed to engulf it, until it eventually morphed into a distinguishable silhouette. “L, this is Malikah. Malikah, you already know who this is.”

L’s jaw dropped slightly, revealing his freshly chewed on piece of cake. The creature that had appeared to him looked similar to the shinigami Rem, with wide wings hanging off its back, but with a long beak instead of a normal face. Two hollows stood for eyes, and a damaged top hat on its head made it resemble an extremely vandalised plague doctor.

“It’s insane how much ground you can cover with those wings,” Emma explained.

Neither L or the shinigami acknowledged her statement. They both stared at each other, not saying anything. Emma frowned. “Before you say anything, he’s not here because I have his death note. He’s just here to help. Voluntarily, like you should be doing. On that note… Malikah, please get a mop and fix this mess. I’ll handle the furniture.”

The shinigami glanced over at Emma, leaving L to be the only one awkwardly staring. “But miss, you don’t have a mop.” It had a deep but hoarse voice, resembling that of a long time smoker. L had finally started to chew on his food again, but he kept his eyes on it.

She grunted. “Then go steal one from the neighbours. Don’t get spotted.”

Malikah gave her a quick bow and phased through the ground.

L finally interrupted the staring contest he was now having with the wall and looked at her as well. “He obeys you.”

“We’re not savages on the other side, you know. We have a hierarchy,” she muttered, taking another sip of her drink.

“Why did you have him possess the dog if I was unable to see him anyway?”

Emma jumped off the barstool and walked towards the couch. Her eyebrow twitched for a moment before answering, “So I don’t have to look at that ugly face all day.” She placed her hand on the fabric and stayed like that for a few seconds. L took another bite of his cake.

Slowly but surely, steam was starting to rise out of the couch. Malikah was shortly back with the tools he needed, and started mopping the floor. Emma interrupted her chores to go into the bedroom and bring out some dry clothes for the rebellious detective. She threw them into his unsuspecting arms, and directed him to go change in the bedroom. Visibly irritated, he did as told and shortly returned to continue eating his cake on the floor.

His hair was still wet, even after handing him a freshly dried towel. He had just let it sit on top of his head for a while and it had fallen off when he had reached for another piece of cake.

After a while, most of the water was gone, since it was a small apartment anyway. Emma had inevitably stepped into a puddle and had to dispose of her socks in the process. Once done, Malikah went off to return the used tools, while Emma kneeled in front of L’s almost gone cake. She reached out to grab a piece of a left out strawberry.

“I propose a deal,” she said.

“One that I suppose I have to accept either way, ” the detective commented, his mouth full.

“I think you’ll like it, actually. All you have to do is stay here. Just like we agreed on earlier.”

“I never agreed to anything.”

Emma sighed. “Alright, you can’t let it go. I get it. But look at it this way — everyone you could count on has abandoned you. There’s no certainty your orphanage will welcome you with open arms, is there?”

L lifted his thumb up to his mouth. “No one there has ever seen my face, that is true. But there are other ways—”

“See? You keep lying to yourself. Stop with that optimistic shit already,” she interrupted him.

He frowned at her. “Language.”

Ignoring his comment, Emma went on to present her proposition. “You want to know what’s going on with the Kira case? Fine. I’ll have the shinigami spy on the investigation every now and then, and report back the status. How’s that? In case your successors run into any kind of danger, we’ll know it beforehand. And we’ll stop it. But until then, let the reality I’ve disturbed take its course. Do you trust your successors to do the right thing?”

“I do,” he replied, taking the last piece of cake. Emma looked down at it, regretting she hadn’t gotten to it first.

“Then let them do their job. Accept your loss.”

With that, the woman stood up and grabbed the now empty box to take to the trash can. She ordered the shinigami to go back into hiding, which it quickly did, not even disturbing the sleeping dog in the process.

“I suppose there’s no need to barricade the windows anymore,” she mused, reaching for the control panel to lock the front door. “You already know where we are. I don’t have enough bedsheets for you to go Rapunzel on me either. I own the other two apartments below as well.”

L stood up, and slowly walked up to the window. Indeed, they were too high for any attempt at escaping through the window to succeed. Emma watched him as she took the last sip of her whiskey and placed the empty glass inside the sink.

“I never asked you. Do you miss him?”

“Miss who?” L absently inquired.

“Watari.”

She couldn’t see it, since she was now busy pouring dog food into Fen’s container, but L had stiffened for a few seconds. He didn’t respond, but Emma kept on going, “I mean, I suppose he was the closest thing you had to a family. I just wanted to—”

“No.”

L’s response had obviously come as a surprise, as she had accidentally slipped and poured more dog food than necessary. Once done, Emma straightened herself and turned around to look at the detective, who was still overlooking the city from the now uncovered window. It was almost sundown already. But nothing about his body language — at least from that angle — betrayed any sign of hurt or anger.

“Are you sure? It’s alright to—”

“I am fine,” he interrupted her again. And again, there was no trace of any hidden emotions. L was stoic as a statue, standing there, hands in his pockets and back hunched.

After arranging the groceries, Emma excused herself and retreated to the bedroom, bringing the shinigami-possessed dog with her. This left L alone in the living room, and he stood like that, unmoved until the sun completely set and night finally replaced the warm colours of the sunset.

There, in the safety of the darkness, the detective finally let his facial muscles relax. His lower lip trembled slightly, as his eyebrows began to arch a little upwards. Placing a hand on the window, he slid down to his knees, back hunched even more now. He struggled to keep his heavy breathing as silent as possible, clenching his teeth as vision in one eye grew blurry.

Quillsh Wammy was gone. The single person who had ever cared about him was there no more. Who had not only cared about him, but had cared for him for as long as he could remember. Everything he was, and everything he had achieved… it was all thanks to the old man that had decided to take him in so many years ago. It wasn’t that he had taken him for granted, but this was a situation he had no backup plan for. Moreover, L had never stopped to ponder on the way Watari’s death had made him _feel_.

Truth be told, he never felt forced to face the fact up until that moment. His mind had been busy focusing on all the strange things that were happening to him, ignoring the series of events that had led to that point. For those few minutes of introspection, escaping the insane woman to get back to working the Kira case wasn’t his top priority anymore.

And Emma was right — Watari was the closest thing he had ever had to a family. Perhaps even more than that, since his vision of families had been distorted long ago, to the point that it meant next to nothing to him now.

But L was alone, once again. Just as he had been seventeen years ago. In a world full of monsters… of all types. And with no one to protect him anymore from the monster he himself had become. Maybe he should have been left alone to die as well.

It was unusual for the detective to experience these kinds of feelings. So, naturally, he settled on repressing them. Maybe once he was free from all the craziness, he could stop and analyse them a little more in depth.


	4. Internet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING:** chapter contains mentions of suicide
> 
> this took so long im sorry. im not dead. im just really tired. thank you so much for being patient with me and reading this

There was no point in covering the windows anymore, since L now knew where the apartment was located. Therefore, the metallic blinds stayed retracted, and when Emma woke up, she instantly cursed herself — it was still night outside.

She could go without the sleep, but she had insisted on keeping her human body as close to the true thing as possible, so inevitably she had the same needs as the average person had. There were tricks she could have used to bypass these needs, but in a strange, almost self-sabotaging way, she felt her experience would lose its authenticity if she took advantage of them.

For a few moments, she contemplated whether she should go back to sleep or find something else to do with the extra time she had before having to go to work. It was in her experience that when she chose the former, she would oftentimes wake up feeling ridiculously more tired. So with that idea in mind, she rolled off the mattress and stood up, sticking her bare feet in a pair of fluffy black slippers.

Fen didn’t move as Emma dragged herself out of the bedroom.

Even though L was known for his preference to get as little sleep as possible, she tried to be as quiet as she could when opening the door to the living room. There was still a small possibility that he could have fallen asleep — after all, the previous day had been rather tough on him.

The detective was sitting in his distinct style in front of the window, however. Emma couldn’t see if he was sleeping or not, but she thought it was improbable anyone could fall asleep in that position. She had originally planned on getting a glass of water and returning to the bedroom, but now she was drawn to him, curious to check if he really did sleep in that manner.

So she stepped towards him, careful to not make any sound. He didn’t acknowledge her until she was one step away from being able to see his eyes. L suddenly turned around to look at her and she jumped back in surprise.

“I... I thought you were sleeping. I thought I’d bring you a blanket,” she lied. She wasn’t carrying any blanket.

L nodded slightly but did not reply. He went back to looking out the window.

“I know you don’t care, but since you’re awake I thought I may as well give you an update on the case. They’ve agreed to look into what you suggested,” she said. Her eyes drifted out the window as well, admiring the night scenery. Even at that hour in the night, LA seemed as lively as ever.

“At this rate, he might kill another before you catch him,” L muttered.

Emma looked down at him. “What do you mean?”

“Your colleagues at the LAPD will start looking into the case again. They will question the brother again. Your suspect will start to feel cornered, and he will try to get rid of the only person who knows what he has done — his own brother.”

“Why would he do that? They seem pretty tight. If your theory is correct, his brother is lying for him. Why would he suddenly tell the truth?”

“He will not, but the suspect will become paranoid nevertheless. He already holds a grudge against his brother — after all, he did steal his precious significant other.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “How— _What_? You could tell that by looking through that file for ten minutes?”

“It is human nature. The suspect is obviously the black sheep of the family — his older, more successful brother gives him a place to stay, food to eat... an alibi for murder,” L explained, placing his thumb between his lips. Meanwhile, Emma had made her way towards the coffee table, where the case file rested. She turned on a floor lamp and made her way back to L.

“I meant the affair,” she said, sitting down next to him and opening the file. “How can you tell the victim was cheating on him with his brother?”

L didn’t look at her, or the file. “There is a screen capture of a surveillance video of her, where she is seen wearing an expensive necklace. I doubt her or her boyfriend had the funds to buy it, since she earns minimum wage and he is unemployed. Besides, it was not missing from the apartment the night of her murder — it was well hidden within a trap book. She is also never seen wearing it in photos that show the both of them.”

While L shared his findings, Emma struggled to find the photos he was talking about. He was right — the necklace only appeared twice. The first time, it was on the video capture L had talked about, and the second time it was on the inventory the LAPD had made when trying to figure out what was missing from her apartment back when it was still considered a burglary gone wrong. It was estimated at $5,000.

“Why would he buy her such an expensive gift and then have her killed?” Emma asked, holding the screen capture close to her face. “It doesn’t make sense. Maybe it wasn’t her brother, but some other rich guy she was seeing.”

“It was not a gift. It was bribery.”

The suspect’s brother was an important shareholder in one of the top marketing companies in LA. And it so happened that the victim worked as a secretary for a small but promising marketing company as well. At first glance, the two companies were in two completely different leagues. It was not a secret that massive companies stayed massive by out-buying their competitors, however.

“I predict that in the near future, something will happen. Something that will make the company the victim worked for dissolve,” L continued.

Emma took a deep breath. The detective had a solid point, but she could not help but feel it was far-fetched, and stretched to fit one tiny possible scenario. It seemed as if he was interpreting the evidence based on an idea, and not letting the evidence speak for itself. In a way, it was necessary for a case with such few things to work with. But at the same time, she could not rid herself of the classical LAPD way of handling things.

“Do you have any other scenarios in mind?” she asked. L shook his head. “None as plausible.”

“What if there are more things that we missed? Things the LAPD missed. Things that are not in the file. It doesn’t seem right to arrest the guy based on a hunch,” Emma mused. “Besides, it seems it was all orchestrated by his brother. If anything, we should look into him more.”

With a soft grunt, the detective stood up. “You asked for my opinion. I gave it to you. From hereon, the actions you take are your own responsibility. I have nothing more to add.”

Emma watched him as he made his way to the fridge, analysed its contents and closed the door, empty-handed. He eventually rummaged through one of the grocery bags and took out a Chupa Chups. A strange, heavy feeling made Emma’s features darken slightly.

“I’m not the one who makes these decisions. I cannot tell the LAPD what to do — I am merely a consultant. Even if I tell them everything you just told me, they would probably not act on it. There’s nothing I can do,” she concluded. L didn’t respond; he had walked over to the sofa and sat on top of it in his usual way. His right cheek puffed slightly because of the lollipop as he just stared down at his bare feet.

“There’s nothing I can do,” Emma repeated. “I’m not supposed to act on my own. What if your assumption is wrong? I would cause more damage than necessary.”

L took out the lollipop from his mouth and stared at her. “It sounds like you are trying to make excuses.”

The woman stood up and faced him, an irritated expression now on her face. “What are you talking about? I’m not! I don’t need excuses not to act on a hunch!”

In response to her sudden outburst, L put the lollipop back into his mouth and shrugged. Emma decided not to give it any more attention and tossed the file back on the coffee table. With a swift motion, she grabbed a glass and filled it with water, as she had originally planned when she had entered the living room.

As she was making her way back into the bedroom, L interrupted her. “Might I add that an Internet connection, as well as a personal computer, would be of most useful. For example, I am sure I could have dug up a lot more information on the case if I had such tools.”

She took a sip of her water and turned around, looking as if she was struggling to hold in laughter. “Don’t make me laugh. You just attempted to escape a few hours ago. A computer is the last thing I would give you. I worry about you sending smoke signals out the window — imagine if I had to go around my day knowing you have access to a computer.”

“There is software that can be installed to keep me from doing certain things,” he insisted.

She frowned. “Maybe there is. I wouldn’t know. You can probably bypass it, as you did with my security system.”

At this point, L seemed to have an idea. “How are you so certain I will not try it again?”

With a smug look on her face, Emma internally congratulated herself. Now he’d finally understand she was smarter than she looked. “I called the company that installed it and told them about the incident. They told me they disabled the fire safety feature until they can look into the problem. I didn’t tell them it was intentionally set off,” she mumbled the last part, even though she knew L didn’t need an explanation. She had called them right before going to sleep, however, but L was still visibly distraught by something else.

“They disabled it remotely?” he asked. Emma froze, not sure even of what his question meant exactly.

“I don’t know!”

“So you do have an Internet connection.”

“No! I don’t have a computer!” she protested, visibly confused.

L tilted his head slightly to the side. “You don’t know what an Internet connection is.”

“Of course I do. It’s what makes your computer do... computer stuff,” she responded, getting more and more irritated. L’s eyes had widened while she gave her explanation, but she became even more annoyed at the fact that she couldn’t figure out what was so surprising to him. Emma couldn’t tell whether she had been shockingly right or shockingly wrong. But she kept on explaining herself, “How could I possibly have the Internet if I don’t own a computer?”

Her use of the definite article was almost amusing enough to draw a smile out of him. The detective cleared his throat before finally enlightening her, “They are not mutually dependent. You can have an Internet connection without a computer, and vice versa. The Internet simply allows you to connect your computer to another computer across the world. The company that made your security system is capable of connecting to it through the Internet.”

“Do you mean they can control it without my permission?” she asked, dumbfounded. She wasn’t even angry about the interaction anymore, but simply curious.

“I suppose it is in your contract that they can only interfere when you ask them to. But technically, yes.”

L made no attempt to hide the fact that he was attentively watching her every reaction, down to the slightest twitch of her facial muscles. Meanwhile, Emma was too busy thinking about her newest discovery to notice the intensive stare. It was true that she was not the most tech savvy person — in fact, she had never even touched a computer. She preferred keeping it to herself, and not reveal the extent of her lack of knowledge. A toned-down reaction was required of her in order to cover her real surprise.

“Oh,” she mouthed. “I never thought of it that way.” Technically, she wasn’t lying. She had never thought about it _at all_.

At this point, she was ready to dismiss the matter. But when she realised L kept pushing, Emma grunted loudly.

“Since you already have an Internet connection, then...” he started, but she wouldn’t turn around. “...I suppose half of the work is already done.”

Was he seriously assuming she had agreed to get him a computer? Arguing with him, she knew, led nowhere. So after a few moments of complete silence, in which she contemplated turning around and throwing him out the window, Emma finally settled on ignoring him. She shut the door behind her with a loud thud, leaving L staring at it, his head still tilted slightly to the side. If one didn’t know him better, one could assume he even looked confused.

~*~

When Emma left for work that day, she only took Fen with her. Malikah, the freshly introduced shinigami, stayed behind with clear instructions.

“If he tries to pull any shit like that again, Malikah...” Emma had told him, making sure the detective could hear every word. “You know his name — you can see it. Whip your pen out and kill him. I don’t have time for any more games.”

Upon hearing that threat, L had been more concerned about pointing out her foul language again. But her language clearly matched her disposition this time; she had come out of the bedroom in a worse mood than she had been in after the computer talk. Something had happened, he could tell, while she either struggled to fall back asleep or talked to the shinigami. He wasn’t convinced the shinigami was there only to help her out of pure respect for her higher rank. The way she treated the creature made it obvious that there was some sort of personal feud between the two.

But here was his chance to find out. He was alone with the creature, and they hadn’t shared a word since Emma had left. L had his back leaned against the wall next to the bar, hands in the pockets of his blue jeans, while the shinigami stood in the opposite corner and stared at him.

“Malikah,” L repeated its name, _his_ name, as if making sure he was pronouncing it right. The shinigami nodded slightly, confirming he had his attention. “Why are you here, exactly? For amusement?”

“For Emma,” he replied. The answer didn’t satisfy the detective.

“Did she order you to? Did you ask to tag along?” he insisted. What was supposed to stand for his eyes — the two black holes in the skull — narrowed slightly.

“She asked me nicely.” There was an obvious hint of irony in his tone. This time, L was beginning to enjoy it. He liked a challenge.

“What made her choose _you_? What makes _you_ so special?” he pushed.

The shinigami’s expression stayed the same, but the hint of amusement in his voice was gone now. “I suppose I’m the only one she can really trust. In some sort, I am... indebted to her.”

“And are you, really?” the detective asked. Malikah didn’t answer, but instead tilted his head slightly. L elaborated, “Someone she can really trust?”

Malikah let out a little laugh. “If you expect me to help you, I’m afraid you’re wrong. You heard what happens if you try anything funny.”

This direct and unexpected approach made the detective switch his position to a more defensive one — he pulled his hands out of his pockets and folded them in front of his chest. There was a small smile beginning to form on his lips, however. “I’m not expecting anything. I was just wondering if whatever favour Emma did for you is worth being ordered around like you are. I find it quite... beneath a shinigami.”

“Favour?” Malikah asked, the hollows of his eyes moving as they would have if he had raised an eyebrow. Only he had no eyebrows.

“You said you were indebted to her,” L explained.

“Not for something the mistress did for me. Rather something I did _to her_.”

The shinigami’s tone of voice made it clear that was as far as he would go. While the confession surprised him, L didn’t let it show. Instead, he turned his attention to the sight visible from outside the window, his original plan now having to suffer several modifications.

Since Malikah was staying with Emma most probably because of a sense of guilt, he couldn’t really make a counter-offer. Had she offered him something, maybe he could have found out what it was and promise something better. Now, his best approach was to find out what had happened between the two. From there, he would either have to convince the shinigami that whatever happened was either not his fault, or that the woman had wrongly made a victim out of herself.

The easiest way to get information out Malikah implied trying to befriend him, but it was also the most time-consuming one. Since Emma had promised to send him away to spy on the Task Force, it was also probable L would have to split that time, which only made it worse.

Another solution was to find out from Emma herself, but she was obviously less cooperative than the shinigami. Any wrong question could lead to a fit of rage, he had noticed, and that would only send him back to square one. Earning the woman’s trust seemed impossible at the time, especially after his recent escapade. The shinigami had already given him more information than he could ever hope to come from the woman.

He decided to push his luck, and turned to face Malikah again. Unsurprisingly, he had was still staring at the detective. “Was it something you did a long time ago?”

The shinigami grunted. “I’m not that good at converting our time to human years.” He was obviously avoiding the question.

“Was she much younger back then?” L insisted. The shinigami simply shrugged. “How old is she now?”

“Like I said, I’m not familiar with your definition of time,” he responded this time, ignoring the detective’s first question. “Stop it.” His voice had switched from being indifferent to slightly threatening, a hint L made sure to register. But after a few moments, out of nowhere, Malikah made a remark that helped the detective understand the conversation between him and the woman from that previous night a lot better. “She wasn’t around when all your technology started developing. Back when I first met her, you humans still used carriages to get around.”

“I see. Was that the last time she visited our world?” The shinigami nodded. L held his breath for a few seconds before asking, “Were you the reason she never returned?”

At that question, Malikah suddenly straightened his posture and took a few steps towards the detective. With a bony finger raised to point at the man who hadn’t even flinched at the sudden outburst, the shinigami switched to a much darker tone. “One more word, _Lawliet_, and I’ll tell her you tried throwing yourself out the window.”

He had used his name to remind him he could write his name in the Death Note whenever he wanted to. L knew he had crossed the line, but from what he could tell, the shinigami didn’t seem to linger so much on his rage. Give it an hour or two, and he could try it all over again. There wasn’t much to do in that space, after all, but talk.

The tension between the two was still at high levels when the woman returned home, which forced him to abort his plans for the time being. That, and the fact that she had returned with a lot more of an attitude.

Malikah had gone back into hiding, since there was no need for his menacing presence anymore. L was watching her furiously pace through the apartment from the corner of his eye, while sitting on the sofa, pretending to be interested in a random page from the case file.

Then, as if suddenly remembering he existed, Emma took a seat on the loveseat in front of L and stared at him. He looked up, stared back, but neither said nothing. He could tell she was distressed by the case, but at that level, something really serious had to happen. Had his prediction been right?

Answering his question, came the first words of that evening that weren’t slurs. “You were right.”

L tilted his head, carefully watching her. “Did the LAPD crack the case?”

With no change to her neutral expression, Emma shook her head slightly. “You were right about the suspect committing another murder. He killed himself this morning.”

“So the brother gets away with it.”

There it was, the true reason for her distress. He could see that from the slight twitching of her eye. It seemed to come as a warning for a future outburst, was he not threading carefully. “The only two people who could prove it are now dead. The only chance we have at catching the brother is if it was a staged suicide. But by the looks of it, he really convinced him to... truly do it. All by himself.”

“It is not uncommon,” the detective mused. “There is still a chance you can prove the link between the first victim and her killer’s brother.”

“That would do nothing but accuse the victim of extortion. That is the last thing her family needs,” Emma growled. She was now frowning, making no attempt to hide her frustration anymore. “There’s also too little evidence for a warrant.”

An idea formed in L’s mind. “Proof that a relationship between the brother and the first victim existed would be enough to make him a suspect. You’ll have all the warrants you need and more. There must be something that links him to the murder — perhaps even proof that he convinced his brother to kill himself.”

Oblivious to L’s sudden interest in the case, Emma relaxed her shoulders and sighed loudly. “Other than that necklace you pointed out, there is nothing that could link the two. Even then, he could say it was a gift from his brother that he offered to pay for.”

“What about the apartment building?”

The woman looked away from him. “You were right about that too. A closer inspection of the basement showed a way to get into the adjacent building. They’re looking over the surveillance tape of the other two exits as we speak. He killed himself before we discovered it, though. Some guy found him on the side of the road in his car and called 911. Shot in the head.”

Emma grunted as she lifted herself off the loveseat and made her way towards the bar. With a swift motion, she threw her cellphone on it, probably expecting the call from LAPD, letting her know the killer was caught on the tape exiting the other building. Telling her the case would be closed — a murder and a suicide, nothing more. She would try suggesting to look into the brother and be shut down. Her eyes lingered on the bottle of whiskey she had reached out for.

This time, she poured less alcohol than she usually did. She downed it immediately and put the bottle back where it belonged. L watched as she absent-mindedly started tracing her finger along the edge of the now empty glass.

“I could hack into his brother’s computer. Maybe there’s something there that could prove his relationship with the victim,” L said.

Her expression instantly turned from one of defeat and frustration to a confused one. “You’d need a computer of your own for that, I suppose,” she said, cutting to the chase. “How convenient.”

“You can watch over my shoulder as I work,” he responded.

Their conversation about the Internet had proved she knew close to nothing about computers, much less hacking. He could easily be alerting the whole country of England of his presence right in front of her and she would have no idea. And he knew that very well. It took her every bit of self-control not to lash out at him for even suggesting that.

“No.”

L went back to looking at the file. He let her think about it a little more before musing to himself, “It’s fascinating, how many times one can repeat the same mistake and expect different results.” He had talked loud enough for her to hear, which was his intention anyway.

Initially, she thought he had found something in the file. “What do you mean?”

He looked back up at her. “You made the same mistake this morning by not pointing the finger towards the brother as soon as you could. Look where that led you. There are times when the system will simply not let you deliver justice. You need to learn to work around that.”

“By letting you trick me into getting you a computer?” she spat back.

“By trusting me enough to let me help you.”

They shared a long moment of what could easily be catalogued as a staring contest. He bore into her eyes, as she ran over all the possible outcomes of doing as he said. It was more than clear that it was not going to end well. It was foolish to think that he had suddenly decided to do a 360 and cooperate while she had been gone. She made a mental note to ask the shinigami to give her a full report of that period.

But on that note, he was right. And she hated to admit it. That morning, she had purposefully neglected to accuse the brother of anything, hoping that the investigation would uncover the truth. Every second that she had wasted, making the LAPD search the basement of the apartment building — she could have gone and searched for the suspect by herself. Maybe she could have even saved him from killing himself.

Emma looked over at Fen, who was sleeping soundly in a corner next to the bedroom door. Curled up in a ball, eyes closed, and with his torso moving up and down as he breathed. A much slower pace than usual. She had often heard dogs could sniff out bad people, and for a few moments there, she wished they could sniff out bad intentions as well. Bad intentions coming from good people.

“Fine. I’ll get you one,” she said, her gaze still locked on the sleeping dog. But then she turned to look at him, as if to detect any change of attitude. Her expression hardened. “And as you work, you will explain to me, _step by step_, what the purpose of every fucking click you make is.”

“Language.”


	5. Ryuk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for the support. :) I'm sorry this took so long. I'm just never happy with anything, I guess.

Emma had set clear terms on what getting L a computer would imply, and they sure as hell had not been empty threats. He was never allowed access to it by himself, and whenever he was permitted to even touch it, he had to explain what he was doing — along with proof that what he was saying was true. Therefore, most of the time they spent in front of the laptop was wasted on reading articles and tutorials on how to navigate the Internet. Each time something new came up, L had to suppress a groan, or else Emma would pick up on it and stop the whole process in anger.

Speaking of the Internet, it had been painfully hard to set up, and was now just as painfully slow. Since she did not want any intruders in the apartment, calling an Internet Service Provider had been out of the question. Therefore, she had settled on running a cable all the way from the neighbours at the first floor, once L had explained it was possible. It had been Malikah’s last task before leaving to check on the Task Force’s progress on the Kira case. Hopefully, they would not notice it too soon.

The two of them had just finished going over a list of keyboard shortcuts after she had caught L using a combination of two keys to copy a certain name from a block of text. The detective was certainly not used to working at such a slow pace, and the fact that he had to stop and explain everything put a visible strain on him. Instead of letting the anger build up, he settled on taking frequent breaks to take the edge off having to work with Emma over his shoulder. Each time he decided to take a break, she would unplug and take away the laptop.

“I am going to attempt a brute-force type of attack now. Do you remember what that is?” he asked, turning his head slightly in her direction, drained of energy as he was. Emma was sitting next to him on the floor, knees bent underneath her.

She talked with her mouth full, as she was munching on a bunch of salted chips. “That thing where you try a lot of passwords and hope you get it?”

He nodded. “We will have to leave the process to work for a while. If this fails, we are going to try SQL injection.”

“What’s that?”

He got up, and joints cracked slightly as he had been hunched over the laptop for quite some hours. “I will tell you when it comes to it. If it comes to it.”

The fact that he would have to explain such a complicated technique to someone who only a few days earlier had thought people could see her through the screen made his sugary cravings go up by the hundreds. Seeing her eyes widen at the sight of the program working its way into her suspect’s e-mail inbox was not even funny anymore. He had, after all, spent two hours explaining how e-mails worked.

“I find it hard to imagine how you have managed to stay away from technology this long,” L pointed out. He had walked up to the bar, where another bag of groceries waited for him. The only thing left in it was a bar of chocolate.

Emma stretched her legs and moved to lay on her back, resting her head on the sleeping Fen behind her. The dog flinched at first, but then relaxed.

“I just never needed it,” she responded, eyes boring into the ceiling. Still, she remained completely oblivious to L’s attempt to dig into her past a little more. The last few days had been salted with such attempts, which L had successfully cloaked each time as innocent questions. However, none had proved fruitful, since she would always give ambiguous answers, as if aware of his hidden intentions. Sometimes, he was lucky if he got anything more than a grunt.

L wasn’t concerned with it. She wasn’t the type of woman to beat around the bush with. If she had suspicions he was after something else, he knew Emma would either ask him directly, or shut him down completely by addressing the issue head-first.

“We are almost out of food,” he changed the subject, and then carefully broke off a piece of the chocolate bar to taste it. He grimaced and threw the rest of it back on the table. It was _dark_ chocolate. “In fact, we are completely out of food.”

Emma threw him a short glance, and then looked at her now empty bag of chips. “I guess I better go get some, then.”

He clicked his tongue. “That will have to wait.”

“It will?” she asked, mildly surprised. She wasn’t exactly feeling like going out for errands, but she feigned disappointment either way.

“I suppose you do not plan on leaving that on and around.” He gestured towards the laptop, studying her reaction.

It clicked, and she took a few moments to consider her options — ‘starve’ for the moment, or leave L alone with the laptop. “I suppose it can wait, then. How long do you have to leave this on?”

“Minutes, hours, days. I don’t know. I suppose we can give up after a few days,” he muttered.

Emma frowned. “You mean I’m possibly going to have to watch you for _days_?”

“Possibly,” he repeated, shrugging.

~*~

L ended up surviving mostly on coffee for the following three days. Emma, on the other hand, didn’t really need the food to survive. But her body still craved it, and even if just at a mental level, it left her irritated and distracted. She would spit out paranoid theories on how L had actually tricked her into getting him a computer and was planning to escape through some plan her mind could not even fully wrap itself around.

Each time, he had to reassure her nothing of the sort was going on, and they would go over the things she had learned about computers and programming. It was tiring for both of them, but L’s patience never seemed to drain. He never lost his composure, no matter how irrational she could become. And, surprisingly, she never lashed out at him either, despite the accusing tone of most of her speeches.

She would shut up for a few hours and distract herself by obsessively grooming the dog. Which, in turn, was a pain to deal with now that she could not leave the apartment — Fen did have his needs, after all. And it was preferable if he took care of them outside.

Therefore, they would all go for a walk when those times came. L would have to wear a baseball cap she had found in the apartment when she had acquired it, and he was never allowed to leave her sight. Oftentimes, his legs would get tangled with Fen’s leash, since he’d have to walk right in front of Emma, who was holding it.

To others, even though they had tried not to go outside on a fixed schedule, they must have looked like a strange couple walking their dog in a very uncomfortable formation.

The evening Malikah was supposed to return from Japan went by quietly, since the program had finally cracked the suspect’s password. Therefore, no more conspiracy theories were coming from the woman. They were both busy now, with Emma watching over L’s shoulder as he worked through her suspect’s files. She had Fen sleeping with his head on her lap, and she absent-mindedly played with his ear while she supervised the detective work.

They had agreed to shut the computer down once he finished looking over a specific set of files, so that she could leave and get more food. Involuntarily, this made L work a little faster than usual, anticipating the rewards that would follow. This made him a little less attentive to what his companion was doing... or feeling.

Because then, all the muscles in her body suddenly tightened for a few seconds. And as they relaxed, she was left shocked by her body’s response. As she realized what was going on, a cold shiver ran down her spine, adding to the uneasiness. The dog, noticing he wasn’t getting stroked anymore, woke up and looked up at her. She drew in a sharp breath and managed to stand up.

“Stop. Shut it down,” she suddenly ordered. He looked behind at her, but eventually closed the lid and waited for her to explain, expecting this to be one of her strange paranoid mood swings. Instead, she made her way to the sofa and pulled the seat up, revealing an empty storage space. “Get in here.”

L stood up, but didn’t do as ordered immediately. Instead, he studied her expression to convince himself of the seriousness of the situation.

“Get. In,” she said again, this time more aggressively. It didn’t match the expression of pure dread that had started to creep up on her face. He started walking forward and sat down within the storage space, before laying down flat on his back.

“Don’t move. Don’t make any sound,” she instructed as she closed the lid. And then there was nothing but darkness and the sound of Fen’s paws walking around the apartment, probably trying to find another spot to fall asleep in.

He couldn’t hear what Emma was doing, however. But shortly after, he heard the familiar voice of Malikah.

“Ryuk followed me,” L heard him say. There was clear distress in his tone.

Emma just growled back at him. “I know.”

The woman rushed to the window and opened it, looking around. Nothing, yet. She then turned around to face Malikah, took two steps towards him and stared him dead in the hollows that stood for his eyes. “I swear, if he ruins this, I will dedicate the rest of my days to finding other ways of killing you. And then stick with the most painful one.”

Before Malikah could defend himself, she turned around to the sound of another set of wings fluttering. She watched as the shinigami made its way towards her apartment, through the open window (even though he could have simply phased through the wall). Her expression was now blank, and she cleared her throat before Ryuk landed.

“Well, hello,” she greeted him flatly.

The shinigami looked her up and down before his eyes widened slightly, recognizing who she was. Obviously, he had figured it out thanks to the fact that she had immediately let him know she could see him. “Miss,” he greeted her back, his head slightly bowed. “What a surprise.” His eyes narrowed now, since he presented her with a large grin.

“I could say the same,” she replied. “You’re the one barging through my window.”

“Malikah isn’t really the best at operations that require stealth,” he said, chuckling a bit before throwing the other shinigami a quick glance. “I didn’t expect to be seen. But neither did he, I suppose,” he added, throwing in another short laugh. “I was just curious to see who he reported to. After all, I don’t think he’s descended to the human realm in what... hundreds of years?”

Emma crossed her arms, cautiously analyzing him. “Well, now you know.”

“I do, I do. May I ask why?”

“Am I not allowed to check out the hotspots of the human realm?” she asked rhetorically, shrugging before letting her arms fall to her sides. “You’re all the talk back on the other side. Thought it would be interesting to see it for myself,” she carefully explained, a slight smile plastered on her face to hide the lie. There was a careful grace to her movement and speech, but it only appeared unusual to Malikah, who could say he knew her. “But what a shitty host I am — can I get you anything? I am out of apples, unfortunately. Perhaps you’d like something else?”

“My, I don’t recall you being this hospitable,” he responded, his grin growing slightly wider. Malikah wondered whether he saw through her facade. “Why not come see for yourself?”

She grimaced at his first remark, but then chose to ignore it. “I did for a while. But then that detective died and I had no excuse to linger. Besides, your dear little human tried to kill me afterwards. It would be awkward if I suddenly appeared back there, unharmed. What would his poor little mind think? He already seems unstable enough.”

Ryuk laughed as he imagined the scene. But he quickly switched to defending Light, instead. “I think he’s interesting. And pretty smart, too. He’d understand in the end. And find a way to take advantage of you too.”

Inwardly, she felt as if a black cloud had suddenly engulfed her. There was a short moment of silence, in which she tried to tame it, and not go off on the shinigami right there, right then. Even as clouded with rage as her mind was becoming, she still had the clarity not to fully act upon it.

“I highly doubt it. You’re lucky I didn’t prematurely end this fun of yours the moment he wrote my name in that stupid notebook. Come to think of it, I could have Malikah here kill him right now.” Any sign of hospitality was now gone, and she locked gaze with Ryuk. Malikah could tell the comment about Light taking advantage of her had rubbed her the wrong way. He even prepared to do as ordered, in case she would call it. “...as punishment for invading my privacy.”

Ryuk’s grin faded completely in less than a heartbeat. “I forgot to apologize for my intrusion, miss. But as I said, I didn’t know it was you I was intruding upon.”

With a glance towards Malikah, Emma silently threatened Ryuk once again. But instead of giving the order, she grunted and turned back to Ryuk. “And now you do. And you are _still here_.”

“Can you judge me for being curious?” he asked, flashing an embarrassed grin.

A dangerous attempt at lightening the mood.

“I can judge you for _still not fucking off._”

Emma’s tone grew more and more menacing, to the point that her harsh articulation of words caused Fen to suddenly perk his head up. She glanced over at him, and then looked back at the shinigami, who had also noticed the alarmed dog. It was a clear sign that things would go south if he decided to test his luck more.

“I am sorry for bothering you, miss,” he eventually said. Bowing slightly, he turned his back to her and looked back one last time, expecting her to reply. But she didn’t. Instead, Emma stood with her arms now crossed and waited for the shinigami to fly away. Which he did shortly after.

For a few minutes, there was nothing but silence. She watched as his silhouette disappeared into the starry night sky. But even after he was impossible to distinguish anymore, she still looked into the distance, as if he could return at any moment. Then, she slowly turned around and pulled the seat up, freeing the detective who had been attentively listening to the conversation. But if he had any questions, he didn’t voice them as he stepped out of the compartment.

And Emma didn’t feel the need to explain anything, either. She made her way to the bar, completely ignoring Malikah who didn’t know whether he should go into hiding or stay there and wait for the storm to unfold.

But before she could pour any drink into the glass she had pulled out, Emma stopped dead in her tracks. Her thoughts seemed to be momentarily lost, and her gaze, although pointed towards the empty glass, was unfocused. L rearranged the loveseat so that he could crouch on top of it in his usual manner, oblivious to the woman’s unusual behaviour.

All of a sudden, accompanied by a desperate war cry, the glass was sent flying towards Malikah. It phased through him and ended up shattering against the wall, but it was enough for the detective to turn around, and for the dog to run to the opposite side of the room.

L looked back and saw the woman glaring at the shinigami, her breathing heavy and lips pursed into a thin line.

“You _idiot_!” she yelled at him, looking around for a split second. Probably to find something else to uselessly throw at him.

Malikah sighed in defeat. “Miss—”

“Don’t ‘miss’ me! You had one job! One!” she kept shouting, taking angry steps towards him.

He didn’t move away, but the discomfort was obvious both in his facial features and body language. “I didn’t—”

“Think! You didn’t think! Do you ever?!”

“I’m so—”

“Shut up when I talk!” she interrupted him again, and this time he made no attempt to counter her anger. “I send you to do one simple job. Go there and see what they’re doing. Don’t get seen. And you lead Ryuk right into my fucking apartment!” Her menacing tone against Ryuk had been baby talk compared to how she was addressing Malikah now.

“I realized too late I was being followed, miss. I apologize,” he tried to add.

Emma was now standing right in front of Malikah, looking up at him, their faces mere inches apart. The sight could have been somewhat comical, seeing that her face barely reached the height of the shinigami’s shoulders. But her fists trembled with rage, and her breathing had almost turned into a growl.

“And when you realized he was following you, the best you could think of was to just continue your way back here,” she mocked him. “I’m surprised you even figured that one out, you useless piece of—!”

“Emma,” L chimed in. She was thrown aback by his intervention, but before he could reason, she regained her composure.

“Shut up,” she barked, throwing him an exasperated glance. “I’m tired of this. This is the last time you fail me. This is the last time I have to deal with your stupid shit.”

L cleared his throat, not expecting to be allowed to finish speaking. “Based on what I could gather from your conversation with the shinigami Ryuk, he did not seem too concerned with your presence here. If Malikah had tried to cover up his association with you, it might have caused suspicion. I think it was wise of him to trust you to deal with Ryuk.” Surprisingly, no one had interrupted.

Emma had taken a step away from staring daggers into Malikah’s empty eye sockets and her full attention now belonged to the detective. “You don’t have a say in this, Lawliet,” she growled. “I have been cleaning up his mess for too long now. I am _done_.”

“But it’s true, miss,” the Malikah cautiously added. “It’s best if Ryuk knows of our presence in the human realm. And your improvisation and threats were enough to make him not care about it.”

The shinigami exchanged glances with L for a split second, a hint of confusion on his mind. He couldn’t tell why the detective had risked intervening in the argument, especially with Emma as unpredictable as she was when furious. Perhaps he didn’t know how bad she could get, or perhaps there was some other reasoning behind it.

Of course, it was the latter. L saw the opportunity to get on the Malikah’s good side, and took it. Worst case scenario — he’d be killed. But it wasn’t as if he hadn’t already gone through that once before. And besides, why kill him after going through such lengths only to revive him?

“Until his stupid human is gone and there’s nothing left for me to threaten him with!” Emma countered, blind to the short glance the two had exchanged. To her, especially in the state that she was, such subtleties were invisible. There were more important matters ahead, anyway. “What are we going to do then, huh? Will _you_ fix it? Or will you make it worse, just like you always fucking do!?”

“I’m sure we can figure out something else by then...,” L tried to reason, again. But a hard silence fell upon the room. For some seconds, Emma’s fists had even stopped trembling.

“_We_?” she growled.

“We won’t,” Malikah answered L’s attempt at reassurance. But he did so softly, more to himself. Emma watched him with a strange mixture of fear and anger — as if she was hoping he wouldn’t elaborate.

He didn’t, but L had already picked it up. “What do you mean by that?”

Any chance they had at calming the woman down was now completely gone. “Go away. Now,” she ordered Malikah. He hesitated, but obliged, and went into hiding.

This left Emma staring at L, who was in turn still watching her expectantly.

“Then again, I doubt he will care to investigate further either way,” L tried to rekindle the subject.

But Emma hardened her gaze instead, and made it clear she was not going to have any of it anymore. “I don’t want to hear another word about it. Don’t talk to me unless it’s about the case. Once it is over, I’ll think of what to do with you both.”

L had grabbed the opportunity to switch the subject, although Malikah was no longer there to witness him trying to defuse the situation. Maybe he would resurface in time, when L could comfortably attempt to change her mind about the shinigami. It was clear he wanted to stay with her, but the problems at hand were still unclear to L. Why wouldn’t they be able to wait it out? What, exactly, was at stake? And how had that simple mention managed to bring her back to Earth so swiftly?

The detective glanced at the computer, and then back at Emma. She would have to sit next to him if she wanted to see the progress. “The files I got from his computer did not reveal much. I need to go through his e- mails,” he explained, his eyes now trailing her as she made her way to the kitchenette.

“Can I see the passwords you tried?” Emma asked, after a long pause. Her brows furrowed once again as thoughts started racing through her mind.

L shook his head. “I am afraid not. Storing all the wrong passwords would have taken too much space. I saw no point in it.” He opened the lid of the computer, and was greeted with the log-in screen. It requested a password which only Emma knew — or so she thought. He had figured it out the first time he saw her type it. Of course, he wouldn’t expose that information just yet. So, naturally, he turned around to see if she had gotten the hint.

But Emma’s mind had already spiralled far beyond.

“What certainty do I have? How do I know you didn’t just broadcast your location to the entire world?”

There it was again. Her cravings-induced paranoia resurfaced. And worsened now, by all the anger that had built up. For all he knew, Emma was now nothing more than a ticking time-bomb. If he wasn’t so concerned with his own well-being, he’d probably inwardly laugh at how blind she was to the real problem — that he could access the laptop at any time.

With a defeated sigh, L shut the lid once again. A little too violently, even, coming from him. “You watched me write the program. I remember thoroughly explaining each step to you.”

Her green eyes seemed to grow wider with each reply. “You could have used one of those strange combinations of keys you tried sneaking past me.”

“Even if I did do such thing, do you not think the _entire world_ would be at your door by now?”

Logical as it may have appeared, it made no difference to Emma.

“I should have left you to die. I should have known it.”

She looked at him — no, _glared_ at him, and L knew there was no turning back from that point. Her tone of voice bore a hint of hopelessness, but the aggression was harder to miss. Whatever she had set her mind to do, this was the moment that permanently closed all possible safety exits.

Without needing to ask what it was, L tried to fight against the odds and keep reasoning. He would just have to aim for a weak spot, and break her from thereon. “You are acting childish and irrational, Emma. All this rage and paranoia does nothing but stall us.”

“Childish, huh?” she repeated back in a whisper. But then, her voice became slightly louder as she added, “Perhaps. Even if I did, I’d have a good reason for it. Stop trying to fix this.” She even spoke slightly faster than usual, as if hoping it wouldn’t register.

And there it was, that weak spot, given away so easily and in such a predictable way. Perhaps if this was not L she was speaking to, another person might have missed it. But the way she almost stumbled upon her words and acted as if she was righteous in whatever she had decided to do was obvious to the detective.

“What would that reason be?”

Her fingers wandered through a drawer, and she raised her voice to cover the noise of the cutlery she was going through. “None of your concern, Lawliet. We’re done. I don’t get why you’re trying so hard to avoid this!” she exclaimed, having found what she had been looking for. With the carelessness of a child, she dangled the knife in the air to taunt him. “It’s not like you weren’t meant to die.”

“What would the reason be?” he repeated his question, ignoring her threat. His eyes had not left hers for a second.

“I can act however I want. You forget who I am — I don’t _need_ reasons. I can do whatever I want.” Walking around the bar slowly, she still dangled the knife in the air, flashing him a wide smile. Similar to a predator eyeing its prey, she moved towards him — only that in this case, the prey was very much aware of what was coming. There was no need for the slowness and carefulness of it all.

“I doubt that. You wouldn’t be in this situation if you could. So, I ask one more time...” he calmly replied, now eyeing the knife. “What is the reason?”

“I act childish because—” she yelled, but stopped herself. For a few moments, she seemed to struggle to regain her composure. But L feared she was seeing through his plan. Instead of continuing her idea, she filled the silence by wiping all the items off the coffee table with a violent swing of her arm. “You want to know what the deal is? Fine. It’s not like you’re getting out of here alive, anyway. Might as well offer you a nice bedtime story before sending you off back to the other side.”

“I suggest you calm down, Emma...” His voice was void of any emotion as usual, but — he hated to admit — his heart was already racing by then.

“My name is not Emma!” she spat out again in another sudden outburst. “I shouldn’t be wasting my time with all you ungrateful and pathetic little souls. I am _Enma_. I—”

She abruptly stopped herself, as if someone had just crept up from behind her and stabbed her right through the heart. Fortunately, her body was intact. Her mind, however, was anything but fine.

“I...,” her now soft voice trailed off. Soulless eyes staring into nothingness, she dropped the knife. It resonated through the apartment. Even so, her hand curled back up into a fist, as if she was still holding it. But it was trembling, as was the rest of her body. As were her dark eyes, unable to focus and watery. There was no rage in them left anymore, there was no passion. There was nothing.

“I don’t remember my name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo… updates in the time of Coronavirus? 
> 
> I’m currently working from home, which is as relaxing as it is weird. I thought that with all this free time and actual reason not to leave the house, I’d have more time to be creative and write, but all it’s caused is massive anxiety, stress, and — ironically — more work. I’m extremely scared for my grandmother, who has had a major surgery last week and now is more vulnerable than ever. it sucks, because I have to avoid her as to not risk passing on anything, but I wish I could be there for her at the same time. there’s people stocking up on and then reselling disinfectants/surgical masks/fucking flour at five times the original price. my dog is depressed because I can’t walk her as much. I’m shit at keeping track of time so my schedule is messed up. I forget to eat. my allergies flared up and I thought I’d compromised my whole family. I can’t even begin to imagine what people that are/have been in direct contact with it are going through
> 
> as for the next chapter… I’m not sure what to say. I wrote it out months ago, but now with this pandemic it just feels… uhm, insensitive? I’ll post it anyway, because I don’t want to stray from my outline. but I’m not sure how much of a good idea it is.
> 
> it’s just… weird.
> 
> p.s. I’ve dipped back into drawing lately. been trying to do a portrait fitting for my dear Emma. still not liking anything that comes out of my hands yet though. 
> 
> stay safe kids


	6. I Don't Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TRIGGER WARNING:** implied suicide; mentions of disease.
> 
> thank you so much for your support! my heart warms each time I read your comments. thank you for sticking with me, with my f'ed up update schedule and the complaining about the on-going situation. I hope not to disappoint and to be able to deliver chapters that live up to your expectations. sending lots of love and stay safe out there <3

_“Wh-Where am I?”_

_“It doesn’t matter. You’re dead.”_

_“What does that mean? Who are you?”_

_“That doesn’t matter either.”_

_“Are you dead too?”_

~*~

L couldn’t tell how many minutes of complete silence had passed — he had spent all that time balancing out his options. The ringing sound left by the knife hitting the floor still felt fresh in his mind. He could grab it, taking advantage of Emma’s complete shutdown. He was fast enough. But then what could he do, stab the undead? Take the dog hostage? Each minute that passed, L realised this situation was getting worse by the minute, and getting physical was completely out of the question.

There was no sign of Malikah either. Was he really that indifferent to her reaction? Would he let her go through with killing him out of pure rage, for no actual reason at all? Not that he expected the shinigami to care about his well-being, but Emma, for what it was worth, had repeatedly let him know that she didn’t want him to die. Most of her threats leading to that point had been permissive. Would he let her ruin her own plan so easily? Or was he scared, upset?

Up until then, he had always placed his bets on the fact that she wanted him alive. But it was also the first time he witnessed the full extent of Emma’s mood swings. While it had always been a possibility in the back of his mind — that she simply gives up on everything and kills him off — it always seemed that she had made efforts to go on with whatever plan she had and use him, rather than consider disposing of him.

Breaking his chain of thoughts and endless questions, Emma suddenly kicked the knife to the side, as if trying to put distance between her and the temptation to grab it again. Her face didn’t seem as pale anymore, but her features were distorted in such a manner that made her look like she desperately needed sleep.

And then, just as abruptly as all her latest actions, she straightened herself and rushed through the door to the bedroom, slamming it behind her. No explanations, no apologies, no further orders. L exhaled loudly.

While at the beginning he could have consoled himself knowing she wanted him alive, all that security had now been thrown out the window. L knew now, for sure, that he needed to focus all his energy on getting out of her grip. But with a shinigami on her side, he found it much more complicated to do so. If she noticed he was missing, she would just need to command Malikah to write his name down and get rid of him.

And again, all paths led back to Malikah.

There was still no sign of him, except for the dog scratching at the bedroom door, trying to get Emma to open up. Instead, she responded by locking the door completely. Perhaps he could use this situation to his advantage, and sway him away from her. Even shinigami had to have a breaking point, where loyalty stopped to matter.

Fen whined and laid down in front of the door, sighing loudly into the space underneath it. L waited to see if it would make Emma open the door for him, but nothing happened. For a moment he even caught himself worrying that if Fen kept insisting, he might get a piece of her wrath as well.

The shinigami finally made an appearance, as if sharing the same worry. He glanced between the detective and the dog.

“It’s time for dinner,” he stated. “Fen usually eats around this hour.”

L frowned. He hadn’t noticed Emma had been feeding him on a routine. They exchanged looks one more time, before L nodded. “Do you think she’ll come out to feed him?”

Malikah shook his head but didn’t elaborate. It meant one of them had to fill the bowl. Somehow, L felt like taking care of chores would imply he cared about his current surroundings. So he just stood there, waiting for Malikah to handle it. But the shinigami did the same.

“I suppose someone else has to feed him, then,” L lamely concluded.

But Malikah seemed to play the same game. “The food’s in the cupboard beneath the sink.”

“Not a great place to keep dog food,” he commented, walking away from the wall. But instead of heading towards the open kitchen area, he jumped on top of the sofa and crouched in his usual manner.

Malikah only spoke when he realised the detective wouldn’t get the food. “You can move it to a more fitting place after you fill the bowl, then.”

“So can you,” L stated bluntly.

The shinigami began raising his bony arms in the air and opened his mouth, as if trying to begin desperately pleading, but then sighed and gave up, letting them fall to his sides. “The dog can’t see me. He would freak out if he saw the bag of food floating all the way to his bowl.”

L looked over his shoulder at the two of them. The dog was still whining softly at the door. “Dogs are not scared of things they cannot explain. They don’t know what a ghost is. If a dog sees a bag floating around, it will assume that’s what food bags do.”

Malikah growled. Then, he turned around and reached for his notebook. For a second, L thought he would threaten him with it, and turned his upper body towards him. But Malikah just bent over and started dangling the notebook in front of the dog. When Fen noticed it, he instantly jerked up and started barking violently at it, pausing for short moments to snarl at it, but at the same time slowly backing away. When his back touched the wall, Malikah hid away the notebook.

Fen looked around curiously, his ears now back to their normal position, and teeth covered. There was a short whine, and then he returned to his lying position in front of Emma’s bedroom door.

“Convinced yet?” Malikah asked, his tone visibly annoyed. Stressing the dog had apparently put him on edge.

But his demonstration was enough for L to run out of excuses. He could suggest Malikah pour the food while the dog wasn’t looking, but he knew it would perk up the moment he heard that cupboard open.

“Fine.”

Pulling himself off the sofa, he moved as if he weighed a ton. Just as he had predicted, the dog instantly jumped up once he opened the lower cupboard. By the time L had reached Fen’s bowl, he was already waiting patiently beside it, tail wagging and mouth watering.

The detective shot him a harsh look, expecting Fen to rush to the food before he’d be done pouring it. But much to his surprise, the dog sat down and waited until the bowl was full, and didn’t move when L straightened himself up either. He was waiting for permission.

L gestured towards the bowl. “Go ahead,” he mumbled, and, as if released from some kind of invisible leash, Fen rushed to begin eating with a fervour that made it seem he hadn’t eaten for days. “If she cared so much about you, she would have fed you herself,” he grumbled again while putting away the bag.

“Give her a break,” Malikah intervened from the opposite side of the room. “Of course she cares about him.”

The remark went by completely ignored by L. He went back to the spot on the sofa, as did his mind — back to figuring out a plan to escape. He didn’t have the energy to listen to the shinigami trying to justify Emma’s murderous actions. What he needed now was to turn the conversation back to Malikah, so that he could find out what made _him_ tick.

“As she does about you?” he taunted.

But Malikah insisted on the previous topic. “She probably wouldn’t have killed you. Don’t be so sour.”

L’s tone came out a little rougher than the usual calm and indifferent. “I am as sweet as a man dealing with death threats can be.” He had, after all, fed his attacker’s dog.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you trying to back me up there. I appreciate it, but you haven’t been around her as much as I have. She gets like this. I’m sorry you had to go through it so early and directly, but know that there’s good in her,” the shinigami argued, though his voice became softer and softer as he progressed.

Although he was paying attention to what was being said, L had begun to stare intently at the laptop sitting on the floor. “I have no doubt,” he bitterly said. While Malikah moved past him to look out the window, the detective stretched out his leg to support himself as he grabbed the laptop. He placed it on the coffee table in front of him and sat back in his usual manner.

“It’s tough doing what she does,” Malikah concluded, ignoring his remark, back turned at L.

“And what exactly does she do?” L asked, after opening the lid to the laptop. He briefly looked up to his side and noticed the shinigami was now looking at him, probably considering whether to answer his question or not. Or perhaps he was wondering what he was doing with the laptop.

Malikah turned back around to look outside. L inwardly sighed in relief and typed in the password. “She’s still doing her job on the other side, even though she’s present here at the same time. It takes a toll on her mind, you know.”

L now had three things to focus on at the same time: one — watch out for Emma suddenly bursting out the bedroom, two — keep up the conversation, three — work fast enough on the laptop to send out the e-mail he had come up with a few seconds earlier. “What do you mean by her job?”

Malikah’s short moment of silence made L type a little slower, trying to not make much noise as he accessed an e-mail account of his own. But the silence was due to the shinigami’s hesitation, not because of his suspicion. It was clear he was having an internal battle on how much information to give out to justify Emma’s behaviour. Had he not been so busy with the laptop, perhaps L would have managed to pull more information out of him.

“She ferries souls to the other side.”

L stopped typing and looked up at him. Malikah sensed his surprise, and looked at him over his shoulder, still not acknowledging the laptop. Instead, he was focusing on the detective’s expression.

“She is doing so as we speak. Even as she was walking through this room or working on that case with you.” At this point, he even motioned towards the laptop with his chin. Gods, was he oblivious. “Part of her is here with us, transferred into that body of hers. But the rest of her consciousness is still dealing with the lost souls of the afterworld.”

“Then why bother coming to this world?”

Malikah sighed. “That’s not really my place to answer. But, hopefully, I’ve managed to give you some insight. I am not only helping her by running errands and whatnot — I’m here to remind her of who she is. Who she _was_, before all of this. The longer she stays in your world, the harder it is for her to keep track of everything.”

There was obvious regret in his tone of voice, hinting at a much deeper reason for why he stayed by her side. L didn’t let his mind wander, though, as he quickly clicked on the ‘send’ button and closed the browser window. If Malikah believed that letting him in on the stress Emma was going through was going to make him forgive a murder attempt, then he was horribly wrong.

L didn’t find himself doubt it for a second. While he would normally analyse new information from every point of view, this only served as a frivolous effort to make him cooperate in his eyes. Perhaps he was angry, or scared — or simply eager to get it over with once and for all. He eyed the Death Note attached to the shinigami’s belt.

He needed to get a hold of that in the shortest amount of time possible. But before he could even conjure up a plan, Malikah gasped and shifted position. He turned his attention towards the wall that led to the bedroom, and then suddenly started walking towards it. He phased through it, and left L wondering if Emma had somehow seen him meddle with the laptop.

The contents of the e-mail played in front of his mind’s eye.

_I am being held captive in apartment 16, on the 11th floor of an apartment complex in downtown LA, please use the following IP address to locate the building: 161.149.146.201_

It would take time for them to respond, with all the influx of e-mails the LAPD was probably receiving. Hopefully, it would take long enough for him to be able to get his hands on the notebook before they arrive as well.

~*~

“Report on your investigation.”

Emma’s voice was grave, tired, and did not really sound like she truly wanted to deal with it at the moment. But Malikah obliged, carefully choosing his words. For what it was worth, this moment made him feel like he wasn’t _completely_ useless, as she had told him. At the back of his mind, he knew she didn’t mean it. But each time this happened, it made part of him become engulfed in some sort helplessness. If he wasn’t mad at himself for his own failures, he would be mad at being unable to help the weary girl sitting on the bed in front of him.

“The Task Force back in Japan has no real suspicion on who Kira is, as they have put their full trust in Light. Lawliet was right — they are calling him the new L now, disguising the fact that the real one is dead,” he briefed her, his back a little straighter than usual.

“No one is the slightest bit suspicious?” she asked, arching her eyebrows as she stared into the floor.

The shinigami shook his head, even though she wasn’t looking at him. “Apparently, no. Internationally, no one seems to have tried taking the matter into their own hands either. Everyone is trusting the fake L to take Kira down. The ones that still want Kira taken down, that is.”

“What about those successors he spoke about?” The hope that this report was going to be positive visibly faded with the increase of bitterness in her tone.

“No sign of them. I passed by the orphanage on my way to Japan, but if they are preparing for anything, it didn’t really look like it. The people there didn’t even seem to know the real L is dead.”

“Shit,” she mumbled underneath her breath. Then, she drew in a deep breath and stood up. “No word of this leaves the room. If he asks, you change the subject.”

“Are you going to lie to him?”

“Don’t mess this up any further,” she avoided answering his question. “The last thing I need now is to give him an extra reason to want to get away from here.”

The conversation came to a halt as she busied herself searching for a towel and something to change into. Malikah lingered, debating whether to get out of her way or hold her company for some more time. He settled on the latter.

“Aside from that, how are you feeling?” he cautiously asked.

Emma tucked the towel and a black dress — similar to the one she was wearing — underneath her arm and turned around to face him. “I know what you want to hear. I’m sorry for my outburst. Give me your notebook.”

“You needn’t apologise. But are you sure you—”

Emma clenched her teeth and tilted her head to the side, now glaring at him. Malikah stopped himself and handed her the Death Note.

“Thank you,” she said as she flashed him a fake smile.

~*~

The door creaked loudly, and Emma’s figure appeared from behind it. Her expression was unreadable, but the way she carried herself across the room showed a hint of tiredness. She stopped before attempting to sit down on the sofa in front of him, and stared down at the laptop.

“What’s this doing here? It was on the floor when I left.”

There she was going again. L shrugged. “And I nearly stepped on it while on my way to feed _your_ dog.”

One brow raised, she looked at Fen’s bowl, which still had some dog food left in it, and then back at L. “You fed him.”

L neither approved or denied. She threw the garments she had been carrying on the sofa, and then glanced around the room suspiciously one last time, before throwing the notebook all the way on top of the bar. L followed it with his eyes briefly, but then went back to staring into nothingness. She rested her hands on her hips and shifted her weight to her right side.

“Malikah gave me the report on the Kira case. While your Task Force is still oblivious, I instructed him to check in on the orphanage you grew up in — Wammy’s house. They’re investigating as we speak.”

“Both of them?” L perked up. _Shit._ He had mentioned he had successors, but he now seemed perplexed at there being more of them. Moreover, she had to carefully word her replies before she could figure out their gender.

Emma hesitated, letting her arms fall to her sides. “No. There’s only one.”

“What did he look like?” So both were male.

“I didn’t ask!” she snapped. “He’s got a pretty good lead. It should be over in less than a few months.”

“What lead?”

With a growl, she sunk into the sofa. “I don’t know! He overheard a conversation.”

Normally, L would have insisted to know more. But he figured this was all he was going to get from her, as pushing her buttons might result in another scene. He felt her staring at him, but the thoughts in his head were racing too fast to be distracted by it.

He knew of Wammy’s House plans to arrange a successor for him, and he knew they hadn’t decided on one yet before Kira had disposed of him — he would have been made aware of it. Both candidates seemed promising, but why was there only one left now? What had happened to the other one? And which one was in charge now?

Was it Near, the quiet and seemingly shy prodigy? Or was it Mello, the flamboyant, quick and cunning young boy?

Inwardly, he cursed himself for not having interacted as much with them lately. Perhaps he could have trained them himself a little better for a situation like this. With a close eye on them, he could have noticed the risk that one of them would want to leave.

Emma interrupted his chain of regretful thoughts, “You said we need to go through his e-mails.” L looked at her, his eyes widened for a few seconds as he refocused on the present. Emma reached for the laptop, unlocked it and just stared at it. L waited for her to give up and hand it over to him.

“Well, go on, then,” she said as she placed the laptop on the coffee table, turning it around so it would face him. Her calm demeanour made L feel strangely suspicious, but she then stood up and hopped on the sofa next to him. She opted to sit on the backrest, so she could see what he was doing and at the same time be slightly higher than him.

Reluctantly, he placed the computer on his lap and started browsing through the hacked e-mails, wondering if at any moment now she would accuse him of accessing the laptop without her permission. Much to his surprise, she stayed silent during the whole ordeal, not even commenting when he was moving too fast.

“There it is,” L stated before she could finish reading the subject or recipient of the e-mail. Indeed, the e-mail thread showed a conversation between her prime suspect and the first victim — the woman who had been murdered in cold blood during a staged break-in.

He talked about the nice surprise he had for her — probably the necklace. Her replies were coy, teasing him and telling him he was finally being a ‘good boy’. Emma inwardly cringed, but felt her heart sink at the thought that the woman did not have the slightest idea about what the man she was having such a dubious affair was capable of.

“There would have been one less dead person if I had acted more promptly,” she said out of the blue. “I hesitated, at the cost of a life.”

The detective heard the guilt in her tone but didn’t react. She would eventually realise he was still bitter about what had happened, and stop trying to make conversation.

“I will forward them to your e-mail address, and you can show them to the LAPD tomorrow morning,” he said, working on gathering every e-mail sent between the suspect and the murdered woman into a single folder. They had created an e-mail address for Emma the first time he had explained to her what an e-mail was.

If only he knew back then how unstable things would get.

Once he was done, he closed the lid and put away the laptop. Emma jumped off the sofa, and he watched her make her way towards the bar — to pour herself a glass of whiskey, of course. But before that, she grabbed a bag of cookies and threw it in L’s general direction.

“To celebrate,” she bitterly announced. He caught the bag and opened it with no hesitation, munching on the chocolate chip cookies as his eyes fixated on one particular spot of the floor. He was lost in thought, again.

Emma downed her drink and slid Malikah’s notebook closer to her. She opened it at the first page, but her eyes fixated on the cover. After a solid few minutes of silence and staring, she closed the cover and supported her chin in her fist, her cheek becoming childishly puffy against it. She watched the detective as he absent-mindedly shoved three cookies into his mouth. The tiniest hint of a smile begun creeping up on her lips before she caught herself.

She drew in a large breath.

“My parents died of the plague,” she abruptly stated while exhaling, instantly bringing him back to reality. “I died shortly after, at around thirteen. _That’s_ why I act childish. I never had the chance to properly go through puberty,” she now spat, looking away. Even though she had said that last phrase in a jokingly manner, her voice held an evident deep sorrowful tone.

A long, pressing silence followed as L struggled to calculate his best response to that information.

“…of the same disease?” he carefully asked.

Emma didn’t verbally answer, but scoffed instead. He found he couldn’t decipher whether it was supposed to be a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’.

“I take it you now remember your name, then,” he continued, watching her as she hopped off the barstool.

“I don’t know.” She grabbed the Death Note from the bar and started walking towards him. Circling around the sofa, she grabbed the towel she had left on it and made her way to where L was sitting.

“You don’t know if you remember?”

With a slow, careful motion, she closed the lid of the laptop using her bare foot. L stared at it a little too intensely and then almost jumped as he saw the notebook land on top of the laptop, already open at the first page. He swallowed the last cookie in one gulp.

“My name is _I don’t know_.”

Before he could ask for clarification, she had already turned around and begun to walk away, not bothering to take the laptop with her. She opened the door to the bathroom and locked it behind her. Shortly after, he could hear the shower being turned on.

When he looked down at the notebook, aside from the many names written down inside that he could not read, one particular name caught his attention. It was scribbled with slightly bigger and at the same time shakier characters. Moreover, it was the only name written on the cover, and not on the first page of the notebook. In a way, almost carved. A harder press and it probably would have passed through the cover.

It took him exactly three minutes to research the language using the laptop and figure out what had been engraved so fiercely into the cover.

_**Medekhgüi**, sets herself on fire._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **FUN FACT!**  
according to Wikipedia, there is a tradition with Mongolian names - of giving names with unpleasant qualities to children born to a couple whose previous children have died, in the belief that the unpleasant name will mislead evil spirits seeking to steal the child. Muunokhoi 'Vicious Dog' may seem a strange name, but Mongolians have traditionally been given such taboo names to avoid misfortune and confuse evil spirits. Other examples include Nekhii 'Sheepskin', Nergüi 'No Name', Medekhgüi, 'I Don't Know', Khünbish 'Not A Human Being', Khenbish 'Nobody', Ogtbish 'Not At All', Enebish 'Not This One', Terbish 'Not That One'.


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